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MEMOIR 


OF 


JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTB. 


BY 


WILLIAM  SMITH. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES   MUNROE  AND  COMPANY 
1846. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1846,  by 
James  Munroe  and  Company, 
the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED  BY  THURSTON,  TORRY  4  EMERSON. 

31,  Devonshire  Street. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


But  few  words  need  be  wasted  in  introducing  to  Amer- 
ican readers  a  man  so  great  and  self-sufficing  as  Fichte 
was :  so  thoroughly  able  to  speak  for  himself.  Only  a  kindly 
sentence  or  two,  to  make  us  feel  perfectly  at  home  in  his 
company,  and  to  mark  the  particular  coincidence  of  his 
genius  with  our  present  literary  wants  and  prospects. 

We  shall  welcome  him  because  he  was  a  man  of  action  : 
and  we  need  him  because  he  was  a  man  of  thought.  No- 
where can  we  find  so  grand  a  specimen  of  complete  har- 
mony of  speculation  and  practice,  such  a  healthy,  sinewy 
nature,  constantly  proving  all  his  problems  by  the  heroism 
of  daily  life.  Goethe  spent  eighty  years  in  self-culture  : 
Schiller  wore  himself  out  with  asking  Pilate's  question,  and 
his  results  were  always  aesthetic :  Schelling  rebuked  Fichte 
for  deserting  the  scholar's  province,  and  carrying  out  spec- 
ulation to  its  ultimates.  But  that  very  idea  was  the  best 
in  Fichte's  possession  —  if  it  did  not  rather  possess  him  — 
namely,  that  the  moral  order  of  the  Universe  was  the  ob- 
ject of  life.  He  stood  ready  to  prove  this  by  syllogism  or 
by  sacrifice  :  not  only  by  an  irreproachable  character,  but 
by  deeds  of  great  note  in  their  time.  And  these  were  not 
forced  upon  him  by  circumstance  or  position,  or  merely 
assumed  as  stints,  but  they  were  elements  of  him  and  of 
his  system  :  the  necessary  results  of  the  man,  as  much  as 


4 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


the  tone  and  contour  of  his  features.  Therefore  we  do 
not  consider  him  notable  merely  because,  while  the  best 
scholars  of  Germany  were  elaborating  morphologies  and 
constructing  syntheses  of  Nature,  he  humanized  life  in 
Universities,  made  virtue  the  rage,  set  all  the  students  at 
Napoleon,  and  was  so  adroit  at  revolutionizing  Germany, 
that  he  got  his  name  on  the  emperor's  private  proscription- 
list  :  but  because  his  system  of  thought  would  have  com- 
pelled him  to  do  the  best  things  in  any  era,  because,  in 
short,  he  represented  the  union  of  remote  abstraction  with 
earnest  reality.  He  was  knowledge,  and  he  was  power : 
he  thought  the  subtlest  thoughts  into  deeds :  he  condensed 
that  German  gas  —  a  result  which  worthy  men  among  us 
still  consider  to  be  too  much  for  the  most  ponderous  hy- 
draulics. 

Then  while  we  smile  most  shrewdly  at  some  of  his  met- 
aphysical statements,  and  the  Fichtean  Egoism  is  dismissed 
with  general  merriment,  and  flourish  of  Scotch  and  Eng- 
lish reviewers'  trumpets,  we  still  have  a  suspicion  that  all 
is  not  right,  and  that  it  must  be  the  man  himself  which 
makes  his  own  statement  appear  so  wretched.  Fichte  had 
his  Theory  of  the  Universe  :  a  German  would  sooner  be 
without  his  pipe  than  a  compact,  pocket  cosmo-ontology. 
We  all  construct  the  same,  with  more  or  less  absurdity,  by 
the  same  instinct  that  sets  the  beaver  to  build  his  dam  :  and 
we  are  ready  to  swear  by  it  stoutly  to  every  passenger. 
But  the  first  dun,  or  new  music,  or  outrage  upon  misery, 
or  note  of  reform,  makes  us  suddenly  serious :  we  drop 
the  cap  and  bells,  and  the  noblest  theory  of  the  universe  is 
demonstrated  in  the  play  or  the  gravity  of  our  deeds.  Set- 
ting aside  Fichte's  bare  ontological  statement,  which  after 
all  was  only  a  chance  stone  which  he  made  his  fulcrum, 
we  find  the  grandest  use  and  meaning  in  his  moral  system, 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


5 


and  all  the  merit  of  practical  consistency.  His  keen  analy- 
sis of  consciousness,  his  lofty  development  of  individual 
Freedom,  his  tender  and  religious  admission  of  the  Infi- 
nite Will,  his  stern  and  yet  inspiring  representations  of  Duty 
and  Virtue,  which  no  young  man  can  read  without  longing 
with  tears  to  be  good  and  pure  and  just, —  all  these  noble 
utterances  of  that  strong  and  honest  spirit,  will  be  the  com- 
mon property  of  men's  hearts,  long  after  his  system  of 
Idealism,  which  he  himself  so  well  refuted,  and  the  sharp 
irony  of  his  critics,  and  the  spleen  of  his  traducers,  become 
curiosities  of  literature,  and  morbid  preparations  in  the 
museum  of  some  future  historian  of  philosophy. 

The  most  elaborate  satire  of  Fichte's  Idealism  was  the 
"  Clavis  Fichtiana,"  by  Jean  Paul.  He  evidently  under- 
stood him,  and  yet  he  did  not  do  him  justice,  because  the 
satire  identifies  Fichte  with  his  Egoistic  Idealism,  which 
may  be  thrice  demolished,  without  involving  in  the  ruin 
Fichte's  special  and  only  worth.  Thus,  among  other 
clever  things,  Jean  Paul  writes  with  German  bluntness: 
"  it  struck  me  (said  I,  as  I  glanced  slightly  over  my  sys- 
tem, during  a  foot-bath,  and  gazed  significantly  at  my  toes, 
whose  nails  they  were  paring)  that  I  am  the  All  and  Uni- 
verse; one  cannot  be  more  in  the  world,  than  the  world 
itself,  and  God,  and  the  spirit-world  too.  Only  I  ought  not 
to  have  sat  so  long  a  Time  (which  is  another  work  of  mine) 
without  concluding,  that  I  am  the  natura  naturans,  and  the 
Demiurgus  and  Agent  of  the  universe.  I  am  now  like 
that  beggar  who,  waking  out  of  a  drunken  sleep,  found 
himself  all  at  once  a  king.  What  a  Being,  which,  itself 
excepted,  (for  it  is  always  becoming,  and  never  is)  makes 
every  thing,  my  absolute  All-breeding,  foaling,  yeaning, 
hatching,  casting,  whelping,  bearing  I  !  "  *     And  again, 


"  If  I  saw  my  oldest  friend,  I  should  only  say,  1  =  1.  If  I  saw  Fichte, 
a* 


() 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


in  a  higher  strain,  but  with  still  less  justice  in  view  of  the 
fine  moral  eloquence  of  Fichte,  Jean  Paul  writes :  "  all  the 
enthusiasm  he  permits  me  is  logical :  all  my  Metaphysics, 
Chemistry,  Technology,  Nosology,  Botany,  Entomology, 
subsists  only  in  the  old  maxim,  know  thyself.  I  am  not 
only,  as  Bellarmin  says,  my  own  Redeemer,  but  also  my 
own  Devil,  Death  and  Knout-master.  The  practical  rea- 
son itself  (that  only  sacred  shew-bread  for  a  hungry  philo- 
sophical David)  hardly  sets  me  a  going,  since,  after  all,  I 
can  only  benefit  somewhat  my  I,  and  no  one  further.  Love 
and  admiration  are  void,  for  like  St.  Francis,  I  press  to  my 
soi  disant  breast  nothing  but  a  maiden  rolled  together  of 
snow.  Around  me  is  a  wide,  petrified  humanity :  in  the 
dark,  unpeopled  stillness  no  love  glows,  no  admiration,  no 
prayer,  no  hope,  no  aim.  I,  so  all  alone,  nowhere  a  single 
throb  of  life,  nothing  around  me,  and  besides  myself  noth- 
ing but  ?iothing,  am  only  conscious  of  my  lofty  Un-con- 
sciousness  ;  within  me  the  dumb,  blind  working  Demo- 
gorgon  is  concealed,  and  I  am  it.  So  I  emerge  from 
eternity,  so  I  proceed  into  eternity  !  And  who  knows  me 
now  and  hears  my  sorrow  ?  I.  Who  knows  me  and  hears 
it  to  all  eternity  ?    I."  * 

Schiller  also,  in  his  correspondence  with  Goethe,  calls 
Fichte  "  the  great  I,"  and  says :  u  To  him,  the  world  is 
only  a  ball  which  the  I  has  thrown  forth,  and  which  it  again 
catches  in  the  act  of  reflexion  !     Thus  'tis  said  he  has 


I  being  the  Castor  and  he  the  Pollux,  and  both  of  us  only  existing  by  an 
alternate  immortality  of  projection,  I  should  only  indulge  myself  in  ut- 
tering, Soyons  amis,  Auguste." 

*  After  this,  it  is  amusing  to  see  Mad.  de  Stagl,  with  her  glib,  Parisian, 
goose-quill,  also  snatch  a  blow  at  the  "  Doctrine  of  Science."  She  says 
quite  conclusively,  "  nature  and  love  lose  all  their  charm  by  this  system  ; 
for  if  the  objects  that  we  love  are  only  the  work  of  our  ideas,  we  may 
regard  man  himself  as  the  great  Bachelor  of  the  Universe." 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


7 


really  declared  his  godhead,  as  we  lately  expected."  And 
yet  the  pulse  of  Schiller's  heart  was  deeply  stirred  by  the 
"  Nature  of  the  Scholar,"  the  "  Destiny  of  Man,"  the  "Ad- 
dresses to  the  German  Nation,"  through  all  of  which  runs 
Fichte's  idea  of  the  moral  order  of  the  Universe,  and  the 
sacredness  of  being  called  upon  to  exist.  After  Fichte  had 
dropped  his  unusual  terminology,  and  had  somewhat  pop- 
ularized his  system,  he  was  accused  of  making  himself  felt 
and  understood  at  the  expense  of  his  logic.  Thus  the  third 
part  of  the  "  Destiny  of  Man,"  which  is  the  most  popular 
development  of  his  idea,  was  said  to  contradict  the  first 
part,  and  either  to  destroy  his  system,  or  to  gain  therefrom 
an  esoteric  meaning.  It  may  be,  that  in  writing  his  lofty 
invocation  to  the  Divine  Will,  which  occurs  in  the  third 
part,  he  virtually  abandons  his  idealism.  We  are  more 
inclined  to  consider  the  latter  as  explained  by  his  highest 
moments  and  clearest  statements. 

The  charge  of  Atheism,  seems  to  have  arisen  from  his 
proposition,  that  the  conception  of  personality  subjects  the 
Infinite  Will  to  limitation.  Any  conception  of  the  Deity 
which  we  may  entertain,  must  necessarily  be  finite,  even 
when  it  is  a  conception  of  His  infinity.  Our  conception 
does  not  become  less  finite  when  we  add  the  element  of 
personality,  even  if  we  call  Him  an  infinite  Person.  With 
the  highest  and  most  devout  abstraction,  we  still  only  ap- 
proach the  God  of  our  own  conceptions  :  and  the  men  of 
the  greatest  genuine  faith,  have  always  been  accused  of 
Atheism,  because  they  dared  not  erect  a  finite  conception 
into  a  dogmatic  statement  with  respect  to  the  Infinite  Na- 
ture. There  has  always  been  this  feud  between  the  phi- 
losophers and  the  theologians :  the  latter  making  God 
after  man's  image,  the  former  declaring  that  the  intellect 
can  neither  name  nor  represent  Him.     And  all  the  while, 


8 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


the  earnest  men  of  both  parties  repose  upon  the  same 
Infinite  Will,  and  aspire  to  the  same  source  of  their  com- 
mon life  and  thought.  A  downright  Atheist  would  be,  to 
speak  rather  paradoxically,  a  perfect  God-send.  The  best 
thinkers  of  Germany  absolved  Fichte  from  this  paltry 
charge,  but  nevertheless  respectable  fathers  of  families 
rather  eschewed  his  society.  Bat  no  man  was  ever  more 
penetrated  with  the  Divine  Presence,  or  ever  made  loftier 
statements  of  that  which,  absolutely,  must  always  be  inef- 
fable. His  speech  becomes  transfigured  when  he  meets 
the  theme,  his  words  conquer  when  he  tries  to  say  that  he 
can  say  nothing. 

It  must  be  admitted,  that  Fichte  was  misunderstood, 
partly  because  he  exaggerated  his  own  positions.  He  con- 
ciliated no  one,  and  disdained  to  make  his  wares  marketa- 
ble. He  threw  out  the  truth  which  he  had,  in  huge,  rude 
masses,  and  whoever  thought  it  was  worth  taking,  was  wel- 
come to  all  he  could  retain.  He  was  the  servant  of  truth, 
and  never  trifled  nor  blasphemed,  for  he  saw  the  truth  too 
clearly.  But  this  very  superiority  rendered  him  sometimes 
daring  in  the  form  of  his  statements.  His  simplest  meta- 
physical propositions  were  hirsute  and  shocking ;  as  he 
left  the  lecture  room  men  looked  to  see  whether  or  no  he 
were  a  new  avatar  of  the  Enemy.  Perhaps  he  secretly  en- 
joyed the  turmoil  which  his  needless  singularity  created, 
and  loved  to  aggravate  the  Philistines  who  sought  to  catch 
him  in  his  talk.  Yet  much  that  was  called  arrogance  was 
only  positiveness  of  knowledge,  and  his  blunt  vanity  was 
only  sincerity  of  conviction.  Still  we  may  fairly  censure 
him,  because  the  earnest  thinker  is  not  only  bound  to  re- 
ceive truth  with  reverence  and  self-denial,  but  to  proclaim 
it  in  love.    He  must  win  men  over  to  its  worship. 

This  excellent  Memoir  will  properly  establish  Fichte 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


9 


among  us.  The  English  edition  contains  also  a  translation 
of  one  of  his  finest  works,  the  "  Nature  of  the  Scholar." 
We  look  to  see  the  success  of  this  Memoir  demand  a  re- 
publication of  that  also.  It  will  be  a  seasonable  word  to 
our  scholars,  its  lofty  requisitions  will  deepen  their  earnest- 
ness, its  merciless  analysis  will  abolish  trifling,  its  simple 
yet  smiting  appeals  will  cause  them  to  venerate  their  voca- 
tion. We  shall  welcome  Fichte  because  he  is  in  earnest, 
and  because  he  grapples  with  the  meaning  of  life,  learns 
it  by  heart,  and  makes  it  luminous.  Fie  sets  every  man 
fo  the  most  decisive  work,  and  shows  him  how  his  deeds 
tell  for  God  and  advance  the  order  of  the  Universe.  Were 
his  writings  domesticated  here,  they  would  materially  assist 
us  in  the  solution  of  many  of  the  impending  questions 
which  now  appear  above  our  horizon.*  They  would  at 
least  be  welcome,  because  the  words  of  a  deep  and  power- 
ful thinker,  increase  the  power  and  accuracy,  and  devel- 
ope  the  capacity,  of  thought. 

Watektown,  March  1,  1846. 


*  His  "  Critique  of  all  Revelation,"  is  an  attempt  to  state  the  genuine 
grounds  of  Faith,  the  province  of  Miracle,  &c. 


CONTENTS. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION    ....  3 

MEMOIR. 

BIRTH  AND  EDUCATION  14 

LETTERS  TO  JOHANNA  RAHN         .  .  .  .27 

CRITIQUE  OF  ALL  REVELATION     .  .  .  .55 

DOCTRINE  OF  SCIENCE  81 

PROFESSORSHIP  AT  JENA  96 

SUNDAY  LECTURES  105 

CHARGE  OF  ATHEISM  118 

NATURE  OF  THE  SCHOLAR  140 

OPPOSITION  TO  NAPOLEON  151 

SICKNESS  AND  DEATH  154 


JOIIANN 


MEMOIR 

OF 

GOTTLIEB 


FICHTE. 


At  the  lime  of  the  great  religious  division,  when 
Germany  was  torn  by  internal  factions,  and  ravaged  by 
foreign  armies,  —  when  for  thirty  years  the  torch  of 
devastation  never  ceased  to  blaze,  nor  the  groan  of 
misery  to  ascend  on  high,  —  a  skirmish  took  place  near 
the  village  of  Rammenau,  in  Upper  Lusatia,  between 
some  Swedish  troops  and  a  party  of  the  Catholic  army. 
A  subaltern  officer  who  had  followed  the  fortunes  of 
Gustavus  was  left  on  the  field  severely  wounded.  The 
kind  and  simple-hearted  villagers  were  eager  to  render 
him  every  aid  which  his  situation  required,  and  beneath 
the  roof  of  one  of  them,  a  zealous  Lutheran,  he  was 
tended  until  returning  health  enabled  him  either  to  re- 
join his  companions  in  arms,  or  return  to  his  native 
land.  But  the  stranger  had  found  an  attraction  stronger 
than  that  of  war  or  home  —  he  continued  an  inmate  in 
the  house  of  his  protector,  and  became  his  son-in-law. 
The  old  man's  other  sons  having  fallen  in  the  war,  the 
soldier  inherited  his  simple  possessions,  and  founded 
a  family  whose  generations  flowed  on  in  peaceful  obscu- 
1 


14 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


rity,  until  its  name  was  made  illustrious  by  the  subject 
of  the  following  memoir. 

The  grandfather  of  the  philosopher  inherited  from 
his  predecessor,  along  with  the  little  patrimonial  pos- 
session, a  small  trade  in  ribbons,  the  product  of  his 
own  loom,  which  he  disposed  of  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  village  and  its  vicinity.  Desirous  that  his  eldest 
son,  Christian  Fichte,  should  extend  this  business  be- 
yond the  limited  sphere  in  which  he  practised  it  him- 
self, he  sent  him  as  apprentice  to  Johann  Schurich,  a 
manufacturer  of  linen  and  ribbons  in  the  neighboring 
town  of  Pulsnitz,  in  order  that  he  might  there  learn  his 
trade  more  perfectly  than  he  could  do  at  home.  The 
son  conducted  himself  well  during  his  apprenticeship, 
rose  high  in  the  esteem  of  his  master,  and  was  at  last 
received  into  the  house  as  an  inmate.  He  there  suc- 
ceeded in  gaining  the  affections  of  Schurich's  daughter. 
This  attachment  was  for  a  long  time  kept  secret,  in 
deference  to  the  pride  of  the  maiden's  father  ;  but  his 
prejudices  having  been  overcome,  young  Fichte  brought 
home  his  bride  to  his  native  village,  and  with  her  dowry 
he  built  a  house  there,  in  which  some  of  his  descen- 
dants still  follow  the  paternal  occupation. 

Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte  was  their  first  child, 
and  was  born  on  the  19th  of  May,  1762.  At  his 
baptism,  an  aged  relative  of  the  family,  who  had  come 
from  a  distance  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony,  and  who 
was  revered  by  all  men  for  his  wisdom  and  piety,  fore- 
told the  future  eminence  of  the  child  ;  and  as  death 
soon  after  set  his  seal  upon  the  lips  which  had  uttered 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


15 


the  prophecy,  it  became  invested  with  all  the  sacred- 
ness  of  a  deathbed  prediction.  Their  faith  in  this 
announcement  induced  the  parents  to  allow  their  first- 
born an  unusual  degree  of  liberty,  and  by  thus  affording 
room  for  the  development  of  his  nature,  the  prediction 
became  in  some  measure  the  means  of  securing  its  own 
fulfilment. 

The  boy  soon  displayed  some  characteristics  of  the 
future  man.  He  seldom  joined  the  other  children  in 
their  games,  but  loved  to  wander  forth  in  the  fields, 
alone  with  his  own  thoughts.  There  he  would  stand 
for  hours,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  far  distance,  until  he 
was  roused  from  his  trance  and  brought  home  by  the 
shepherds,  who  knew  and  loved  the  solitary  and  medi- 
tative child.  His  first  teacher  was  his  own  father,  who, 
after  the  business  of  the  day  was  over,  instructed  him 
in  reading,  and  told  him  the  story  of  his  own  journey- 
ings  in  Saxony  and  Franconia.  He  was  an  eager 
scholar,  soon  mastered  his  Bible  and  Catechism,  and 
even  read  the  morning  and  evening  prayers  in  the  fam- 
ily circle.  When  he  was  seven  years  of  age,  his 
father,  as  a  reward  for  his  industry,  brought  him  from 
the  neighboring  town  the  story  of  Siegfried.  He  was 
soon  so  entirely  rapt  in  this  book,  that  he  neglected  his 
other  lessons  to  indulge  his  fancy  for  it.  This  brought 
upon  him  a  severe  reproof;  and  finding  that  this  be- 
loved book  stood  between  him  and  his  duty,  he  with 
characteristic  determination  resolved  to  destroy  it.  He 
carried  it  to  the  brook  which  ran  by  his  father's  house, 
with  the  intention  of  throwing  it  into  the  water,  but 
long  he  hesitated  before  accomplishing  his  first  act  of 


16 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


self-denial.  At  length  he  cast  it  into  the  stream.  No 
sooner,  however,  did  he  see  it  carried  away  from  him, 
than  regret  for  his  loss  triumphed  over  his  resolution, 
and  he  wept  bitterly.  His  father  discovered  him,  and 
learned  the  loss  of  the  book,  but  without  learning  the 
reason  of  it.  Angry  at  the  supposed  slight  cast  upon 
his  present,  he  punished  the  boy  with  unwonted  se- 
verity. As  in  his  childhood,  so  also  in  his  after  life, 
did  ignorance  of  his  true  motives  often  cause  Fichte 
to  be  misunderstood  and  misrepresented.  When  this 
matter  had  been  forgotten,  his  father  bought  him  a  sim- 
ilar book,  but  the  boy  would  not  accept  of  it,  lest  he 
should  again  be  led  into  temptation. 

Young  Fichte  soon  attracted  the  notice  of  the  clergy- 
man of  the  village,  who,  perceiving  his  talents,  resolved 
to  promote  their  development,  and  if  possible  to  obtain 
for  him  a  scientific  education.  An  opportunity  of  doing 
so  soon  presented  itself.  A  guest  of  the  Freiherr  von 
Miltitz,  a  neighboring  proprietor,  was  desirous  of  hear- 
ing a  sermon  from  the  pastor  of  Rammenau,  who  had 
acquired  some  reputation  as  a  preacher,  but  had  arrived 
too  late  in  the  evening  to  gratify  his  wishes.  Lamenting 
his  disappointment,  he  was  told  that  there  was  a  boy  in 
the  village  whose  extraordinary  memory  enabled  him 
to  repeat  faithfully  any  address  which  he  had  once 
heard.  Little  Gottlieb  was  sent  for,  and  astonished 
the  Freiherr  and  his  guests  by  his  minute  recollection 
of  the  morning's  discourse,  and  the  earnestness  with 
which  he  repeated  it  before  them.  The  Freiherr 
determined  to  make  further  inquiries  respecting  this 
extraordinary  child  ;  and  the  friendly  pastor  having 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


17 


found  the  opportunity  he  wished,  persuaded  him  to 
undertake  the  charge  of  the  boy's  education.  The 
consent  of  the  parents  having  been  with  difficulty  ob- 
tained —  for  they  were  reluctant  to  expose  their  son  to 
the  temptations  of  a  noble  house  —  young  Fichte  was 
consigned  to  the  care  of  his  new  protector,  who  en- 
gaged to  treat  him  as  his  own  child. 

His  first  removal  was  to  Siebeneichen,  a  seat  on  the 
Elbe,  belonging  to  the  Freiherr.  The  gloomy  solem- 
nity of  this  place  and  its  surrounding  forests  pressed 
heavily  upon  the  inexperienced  boy  :  he  was  seized 
with  a  deep  melancholy,  which  threatened  to  injure 
his  health.  His  kind  foster-father  prudently  resolved 
to  place  him  under  the  care  of  a  clergyman  in  the 
neighboring  village  of  Niederau,  who,  himself  without 
family,  had  a  great  love  for  children.  Here  Fichte 
spent  the  happiest  years  of  his  boyhood.  He  received 
the  kindest  attentions  from  his  teacher,  whose  name  he 
never  mentioned  in  after  years  without  the  deepest  and 
most  grateful  emotion.  Here  the  foundation  of  his 
education  was  laid  in  a  knowledge  of  the  ancient  lan- 
guages ;  and  so  rapid  was  his  progress,  that  his  instructor 
soon  found  his  own  learning  insufficient  for  the  further 
superintendence  of  his  pupil's  studies.  In  his  twelfth 
year  he  was  sent  by  the  Freiherr  von  Miltitz  first  to  the 
town  school  of  Meissen,  and  soon  afterwards  to  the 
public  school  of  Pforta,  near  Raumburg. 

The  school  at  Pforta  retained  many  traces  of  its 
monkish  origin  :  the  teachers  and  pupils  lived  in  cells, 
and  the  boys  were  allowed  to  leave  the  interior  only 
once  a  week,  and  that  under  inspection,  to  visit  a  par- 
1* 


18 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


ticular  play-ground  in  the  neighborhood.  The  stiffest 
formality  pervaded  the  economy  of  this  establishment, 
and  every  indication  of  freewill  was  carefully  sup- 
pressed. The  living  spirit  of  knowledge  was  unrecog- 
nised in  its  antiquated  routine,  and  the  generous  desire 
of  excellence  was  excluded  by  the  petty  artifices  of 
jealousy.  Instead  -of  the  free  communication,  kind 
advice,  and  personal  example  of  a  home,  secrecy,  dis- 
trust, and  deceit  were  the  prevalent  characteristics  of 
the  school. 

When  he  was  scarcely  thirteen  years  of  age,  Fichte 
entered  this  seminary  ;  and  from  this  time  forth  he  was 
alone  in  the  world,  trusting  to  his  own  strength  and 
guidance.  So  soon  wras  he  called  upon  to  exercise 
that  powerful  and  clear-sighted  independence  for  which 
he  was  afterwards  so  much  distinguished. 

The  strange  world  which  he  now  entered,  the  gloom 
and  confinement  which  he  encountered,  made  a  deep 
impression  on  his  mind.  His  sadness  and  tears  exposed 
him  to  the  mockery  of  his  school-fellows  ; — he  wanted 
prudence  to  disregard  them,  and  courage  to  complain 
to  a  teacher.  He  determined  to  run  away.  Shame 
and  the  fear  of  being  sent  back  to  Pforta  would  pre- 
vent him  from  returning  to  his  protector,  the  Freiherr  ; 
he  therefore  conceived  the  idea  of  seeking  some  dis- 
tant island,  where,  like  Robinson,  he  might  lead  a  life 
of  perfect  freedom.  But  he  would  not  steal  away  — 
he  would  make  it  evident  that  necessity  drove  him  to 
the  course  he  took.  He  warned  his  senior,  who  op- 
pressed him  severely,  that  he  would  no  longer  suffer 
such  treatment,  and  that  if  it  were  not  amended  he 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


19 


should  leave  the  school.  His  threat  was  of  course 
received  with  laughter  and  contempt,  and  the  boy  now 
thought  he  might  quit  the  place  with  honor.  The 
opportunity  was  soon  found,  and-  he  took  the  way  to 
Raumburg.  On  the  road  he  remembered  the  maxim 
of  his  old  friend,  the  pastor,  that  every  undertaking 
should  be  begun  with  a  prayer  for  divine  aid.  He  sunk 
to  his  knees  on  a  rising  ground.  During  prayer  he 
called  to  mind  his  parents,  their  care  for  him,  the  grief 
which  his  sudden  disappearance  would  cause  them. 
"Never  to  see  them  again  !  "  —  this  thought  was  too 
much  for  him  :  his  joy  and  his  courage  were  already 
gone.  He  determined  to  return,  and  confess  his  fault. 
On  his  way  back  he  met  those  who  had  been  sent  after 
him.  When  taken  before  the  Rector,  he  admitted  that 
it  had  been  his  intention  to  run  away,  but  at  the  same 
time  recounted  so  ingenuously  the  motives  which  had 
induced  him  to  take  this  step,  that  the  Rector  not  only 
forgave  his  fault,  but  resolved  to  take  him  under  his 
special  protection.  He  obtained  another  senior,  who 
soon  gained  his  affections,  and  was  afterwards  his  com- 
panion and  friend  at  the  University. 

From  this  time,  Fichte's  residence  at  Pforta  became 
gradually  more  agreeable  to  him.  He  entered  zeal- 
ously upon  his  studies,  and  found  in  them  occupation, 
interest,  and  spiritual  nourishment.  The  defects  of  his 
previous  education  were  supplied  by  industry,  and  he 
soon  found  himself  comfortable  and  happy.  Among 
those  older  scholars  with  whom  Fichte  now  associated, 
a  spirit  of  independence  sprang  up  —  they  labored  as- 
siduously to  set  themselves  free  from  the  influence  of 


20 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


their  teachers,  particularly  of  those  who  held  the  most 
antiquated  and  worn-out  notions.  The  praise  or  hlame 
of  these  masters  was  little  valued  among  them,  if  they 
could  secure  the  esteem  of  each  other.  Books  imbued 
with  the  new  spirit  of  free  inquiry  were  secretly  ob- 
tained, and  in  spite  of  the  strictest  prohibitions,  great  part 
of  the  night  was  spent  in  their  perusal.  The  works  of 
Wieland,  Lessing,  and  Goethe  were  positively  for- 
bidden, yet  they  found  their  way  within  the  walls,  and 
were  eagerly  studied.  Lessing's  controversy  with  Goze 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  Fichte  :  each  successive 
number  of  the  Jlnti-Goze  he  almost  committed  to 
memory.  A  demand  for  unfettered  inquiry  was  awak- 
ened within  him  :  he  understood  for  the  first  time  the 
meaning  of  scientific  knowledge,  and  with  this  knowl- 
edge he  acquired  a  presentiment  of  a  new  spiritual  life. 
Lessing  became  to  him  an  object  of  such  reverence, 
that  he  determined  to  devote  his  first  days  of  freedom 
to  seek  a  personal  interview  with  his  mental  liberator. 
But  this  plan  was  frustrated  by  want  of  money  ;  and 
when  afterwards  it  might  have  been  carried  into  execu- 
tion, an  untimely  death  had  deprived  Germany  of  her 
boldest  thinker. 

In  1780,  Fichte,  then  eighteen  years  of  age,  entered 
the  University  of  Jena.  He  joined  the  theological 
faculty,  not  so  much,  probably,  by  his  own  choice,  as 
by  desire  of  his  parents  and  protector.  By  his  interest 
in  other  branches  of  science,  and  by  the  marked  direc- 
tion of  his  mind  to  clearness  and  certainty  in  his  know- 
ledge, it  soon  became  evident  that  he  would  not  accept 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


21 


the  shortest  and  easiest  way  to  the  completion  of  his 
studies.  Nothing  definite  is  known  of  the  early  pro- 
gress of  his  mind,  but  his  later  productions  leave  no 
doubt  of  its  general  tendency.  He  must  soon  have 
been  struck  with  the  disparity  between  the  form  of 
theology  as  it  was  then  taught,  and  the  wants  of  a 
philosophic  intellect.  Fichte  could  only  be  satisfied 
with  a  consistent  theory,  carried  out  from  one  funda- 
mental principle  through  all  its  ramifications.  We  may 
conjecture  what  doubts  and  obscurities  dogmatic  the- 
ology must  have  presented  to  his  mind  at  this  time, 
when  we  recollect  that,  even  at  an  after  perjod  of  his 
life,  he  still  interested  himself  in  the  task  of  reconciling 
faith  with  knowledge  —  revelation  with  science.  He 
attended  a  course  of  Dogmatics  by  C.  F.  Pezold,  at 
Leipzic,  to  which  place  he  had  removed  from  Jena  ; 
and  in  the  attempt  to  attain  a  clear  comprehension  of 
the  theological  doctrines  of  the  attributes  of  God,  the 
creation,  the  freedom  of  the  will,  &c,  he  encountered 
unexpected  difficulties,  which  led  him  into  a  wider  cir- 
cle of  inquiry,  and  finally  drove  him  to  abandon  the 
theological  for  the  philosophical  point  of  view.  Thus 
his  philosophical  speculations  had  their  origin  in  an 
attempt  to  create  a  tenable  system  of  dogmatics,  and 
to  obtain  light  on  the  higher  questions  of  theology. 

Some  hints  of  the  early  direction  of  his  philosophical 
studies  may  be  gathered  from  his  letters  written  about 
this  time.  The  question  which  chiefly  engaged  his 
attention  seems  to  have  been  that  of  Liberty  and  Ne- 
cessity. Rejecting  the  doctrine  of  free-will  considered 
as  absolute  indifferent  self-determination^  he  adopted 


22 


MEMOIR  OF  F1CHTE. 


the  view,  which,  to  distinguish  it  from  fatalism,  may  be 
named  determinism.  Every  complete  and  consistent 
philosophy  contains  a  deterministic  side,  for  the  thought 
of  an  all-directing  Unity  is  the  beginning  and  end  of 
profound  investigation.  Fatalism  sees  in  this  highest 
unity  a  dark  and  mysterious  Nemesis  —  an  unconscious 
mechanical  necessity  ;  determinism,  the  highest  dispos- 
ing reason,  the  infinite  Spirit  and  God,  to  whom  the 
determination  of  each  living  being  is  not  only  to  be 
referred,  but  in  whom  alone  it  becomes  clear  and  intel- 
ligible. 

Fichte  seems  to  have  adopted  this  view  apart  from 
any  foreign  iufluence  ;  — for  he  was  as  yet  unacquainted 
with  Spinoza,  its  most  consistent  expounder,  whom  he 
had  only  heard  mentioned  as  an  abstruse  atheist.  He 
communicated  his  opinions  to  a  Saxon  preacher,  who 
had  the  reputation  of  distinguished  philosophical  attain- 
ments, and  was  well  versed  in  the  Wolffian  metaphy- 
sics. He  was  informed  that  he  had  adopted  Spinozism, 
and  it  was  through  Wolff's  refutation  that  he  first 
became  acquinted  with  that  profound  and  systematic 
thinker.  The  study  of  Spinoza's  Ethics  made  a  pow- 
erful impression  upon  him,  and  confirmed  him  in  the 
opinions  he  had  adopted.  But  in  after  years,  prolong- 
ed investigation  left  him  dissatisfied  with  these  views  ; 
—  the  indestructible  feeling  of  internal  independence 
and  freedom,  rendered  doubly  powerful  by  the  energy 
of  his  own  character,  could  .neither  be  removed,  nor 
explained  on  an  exclusively  deterministic  theory,  which 
must  ultimately  have  come  into  collision  with  his  strong- 
est mental  bias  —  to  look  upon  freedom  —  self-deter- 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


23 


mination  —  as  the  only  true  and  real  being.  This  is 
the  ground-principle  of  the  Wissenchaftslehre,  which  in 
this  respect  stands  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  Spinoza, 
although  a  general  harmony  does  notwithstanding  reign 
throughout  the  details  of  these  two  great  modern  sys- 
tems of  spiritualism.  Thus  has  every  great  theory  its 
foundation  in  the  individual  character,  and  is  indeed 
only  the  scientific  expression  of  the  spiritual  life  of  its 
originator. 

Amid  these  lofty  speculations,  poverty,  the  scholar's 
bride,  knocked  at  his  door,  and  roused  him  to  that 
struggle  with  the  world,  in  which  so  many  purchase 
ease  with  degradation,  but  in  which  men  such  as  he 
find  strength  and  confidence  and  triumph.  His  gener- 
ous benefactor  was  now  dead,  and  he  was  thrown  on 
his  own  resources.  From  1784  to  1788  he  earned  a 
precarious  livelihood  by  acting  as  tutor  in  various 
houses  in  Saxony.  His  studies  were  desultory  and 
interrupted  ;  he  had  not  even  the  means  of  procuring 
books  ;  the  strength  which  should  have  been  devoted 
to  his  own  mental  cultivation,  was  wasted  in  obtaining 
a  scanty  subsistence.  But  amid  all  his  privations  his 
courage  never  deserted  him,  nor  the  inflexible  determi- 
nation, which  was  not  so  much  an  act  of  his  will  as  a 
law  of  his  nature,  —  to  pursue  truth  for  her  own  sake 
and  at  all  hazards.  ct  It  is  our  business,"  says  he  on 
another  occasion,  44  it  is  our  business  to  be  true  to  our- 
selves :  the  consequence  is  altogether  in  the  hands  of 
providence."  His  favorite  plan  of  life  at  this  period, 
and  for  a  long  time  afterwards,  was  to  become  a  village 
pastor  in  Saxony,  and  amid  the  leisure  which  he  should 


24 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


find  in  that  occupation,  to  prosecute,  without  disturb- 
ance, his  own  mental  culture.  But  his  theological 
studies  were  not  completed,  and  he  was  without  the 
means  of  continuing  them.  In  1787  he  addressed  a 
letter  to  the  President  of  the  Consistory,  requesting  to 
be  allowed  a  share  of  the  support  which  many  poor 
students  enjoy  at  the  Saxon  Universities,  until  the  fol- 
lowing Easter,  when  he  should  be  ready  to  present 
himself  before  the  Consistory  for  examination.  u  I 
have  never,"  he  says,  M  partaken  in  the  public  pro- 
vision for  students,  nor  have  I  enjoyed  an  allowance  of 
any  kind,  although  my  poverty  can  be  clearly  proved. 
Is  it  not  possible  then,  to  allow  me  a  maintenance  suf- 
ficient for  this  short  time,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to 

devote  myself  to  theology  until  Easter  !  

Without  this,  my  residence  at  Leipzic  is  of  no  avail  to 
me,  for  I  am  compelled  to  give  all  my  time  to  hetero- 
geneous pursuits,  in  order  that  I  may  even  live.  .  . 
Should  it  please  you  to  grant  my  request,  I  assure  you 
by  all  that  I  hold  sacred,  that  I  will  devote  myself  en- 
tirely to  this  object,  that  I  will  consecrate  my  life  to 
the  Fatherland  which  supported  me  at  school,  and 
which  since  then  has  only  become  dearer  to  me,  and 
that  I  will  come  before  the  High  Consistory,  prepared 
for  my  examination,  and  submit  my  future  destiny  to 
its  wisdom."  No  notice  was  taken  of  his  request  — 
partly,  it  may  be  conjectured,  on  account  of  doubts 
which  were  entertained  of  his  orthodoxy  —  a  reason 
which  closed  the  gates  of  preferment  against  his  friend 
Weisshuhn  and  many  others. 

In  May,  17S8,  every  prospect  had  closed  around 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


25 


him,  and  every  honorable  means  of  advancement  seem- 
ed to  be  exhausted.  The  present  was  utterly  barren, 
and  there  was  no  hope  in  the  future.  It  is  needful 
that  natures  like  his  should  be  nurtured  in  adversity, 
that  they  may  discover  their  own  strength  ;  prosperity 
might  lull  into  an  inglorious  slumber  the  energies  for 
whose  appearance  the  world  is  waiting.  He  would  not 
disclose  his  helpless  situation  to  any  of  his  well-wishers, 
but  the  proud  consciousness  of  his  own  worth  enabled 
him,  amid  unmerited  sufferings,  to  oppose  the  bold 
front  of  human  dignity  against  the  pressure  of  opposing 
circumstances. 

It  was  the  eve  of  his  birthday.  With  unavailing 
anxiety  he  again  pondered  all  his  projects,  and  found 
all  alike  hopeless.  The  world  had  cast  him  out,  — 
his  country  refused  him  food, — he  thought  his  last 
birthday  was  at  hand  ;  but  he  was  determined  that  his 
honor  —  all  that  he  could  now  call  his  own,  should 
remain  unsullied.  Full  of  bitter  thoughts,  he  returned 
to  his  solitary  lodging.  He  found  a  letter  awaiting 
him  ;  it  was  from  his  friend  the  tax-collector  Weisse, 
requesting  him  to  come  immediately  to  his  house.  He 
there  placed  in  Fichte's  hands  an  offer  of  a  tutorship 
in  a  private  family  in  Zurich.  The  sudden  revulsion 
of  feeling  in  the  young  man  could  not  be  concealed, 
and  led  to  an  explanation  of  his  circumstances.  The 
offer  was  at  once  accepted,  and  aided  by  his  kind  friend 
in  the  necessary  arrangements,  he  set  out  for  Switzer- 
land in  August,  17SS.  His  scanty  means  compelled 
him  to  travel  on  foot,  but  his  heart  was  light,  and  the 
fresh  hopes  of  youth  shone  brightly  on  his  path.  Dis- 
2 


26 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


appointment,  privation,  and  bondage,  had  been  his 
close  companions,  but  these  were  now  left  behind  him, 
and  he  was  to  find  an  asylum  in  Liberty's  own  moun- 
tain-home—  the  land  which  Tell  had  consecrated  to 
all  future  ages  as  the  sacred  abode  of  Truth  and  Free- 
dom. 

He  arrived  at  Zurich  on  the  1st  of  September,  and 
immediately  entered  upon  his  office.  His  duties  occu- 
pied him  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  but  he  also  engag- 
ed in  some  minor  literary  pursuits.  His  philosophical 
studies  were  in  the  meantime  laid  aside.  At  the  re- 
quest of  a  friend  who  had  sketched  out  the  plan  of  a 
scriptural  epos,  he  wrote  an  essay  on  this  form  of 
poetry,  with  special  reference  to  Klopstock's  Messias. 
He  also  translated  some  of  the  odes  of  Horace,  and 
the  whole  of  Sallust,  with  an  introduction  on  the  style 
and  character  of  this  author.  He  preached  occasion- 
ally in  Zurich,  at  Flaach,  and  at  several  other  places  in 
the  neighborhood,  with  distinguished  success.  He 
likewise  drew  out  a  plan  for  the  establishment  of  a 
School  of  Oratory  in  Zurich,  which,  however,  was  never 
realized. 

In  the  circle  of  his  friends  at  Zurich  were  Lavater, 
Steinbruchel,  Hottinger,  and  particularly  the  Canons 
Tobler  and  Pfennigar.  In  his  letters  he  speaks  also  of 
Achelis,  a  candidate  of  theology  from  Bremen,  and 
Escher,  a  young  poet,  as  his  intimate  friends  :  —  the 
latter  died  soon  after  Fichte's  departure  from  Swit- 
zerland. 

But  of  all  the  friendships  which  he  formed  here,  the 
most  important  in  its  influence  upon  his  future  life  was 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


27 


that  of  Rahn,  whose  house  was  in  a  manner  the  centre 
of  the  society  of  Zurich.  Rahn  was  brother-in-law  to 
Klopstock,  with  whom  he  had  formed  a  strong  friend- 
ship during  Klopstock's  visit  to  Switzerland  in  1750, 
and  with  whose  eldest  sister  Johanna  he  was  afterwards 
united.  From  this  marriage  with  Klopstock's  sister, 
sprang,  besides  other  children,  their  eldest  daughter 
Johanna  Maria,  who  became  Fichte's  wife.  Her 
mother  dying  while  she  was  yet  young,  she  devoted 
herself  entirely  to  her  father,  and  to  his  comfort  sacri- 
ficed worldly  show  and  many  proffered  alliances.  The 
foundation  of  her  character  was  deep  religious  feeling, 
and  an  unusual  strength  and  faithfulness  of  affection. 
As  her  family  occupied  a  much  higher  station  in  point 
of  worldly  importance  than  any  to  which  Fichte  could 
reasonably  aspire,  her  engagement  with  him  was  the 
result  of  disinterested  attachment  alone.  Fichte's  love 
was  worthy  of  the  noble-minded  woman  who  had  called 
it  forth.  It  was  the  devotion  of  his  whole  nature  — 
enthusiastic  like  his  love  for  his  country,  dignified  like 
his  love  of  knowledge,  but  softened  by  the  deepest 
tenderness  of  an  earnest  and  passionate  soul.  But  on 
this  subject  he  must  speak  for  himself.  The  following 
are  extracts  from  letters  addressed  to  Johanna  Rahn, 
while  he  resided  at  Zurich,  or  during  short  occasional 
absences.  It  is  necessary  to  premise  that  the  termina- 
tion of  his  engagement,  at  Easter,  1790,  led  to  the 
departure  from  Zurich  which  is  alluded  to  in  some  of 
these  passages.  Fichte,  tired  of  the  occupation  of  a 
a  tutor,  was  desirous  of  obtaining  a  situation  of  a  higher 


28 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


nature,  and  Rahn,  through  his  connections  in  Denmark, 
endeavored  to  promote  his  views. 

"  I  hasten  to  answer  your  questions —  c  Whether  my 
friendship  for  you  has  not  arisen  from  the  want  of  other 
female  society  ? '  I  think  I  can  answer  this  question 
decidedly.  I  have  been  acquainted  with  many  women, 
and  held  many  different  relations  with  them.  I  believe 
I  have  experienced,  if  not  all  the  different  degrees,  yet 
all  the  different' kinds,  of  feeling  towards  your  sex,  but 
I  have  never  felt  towards  any  as  I  feel  towards  you. 
No  one  else  has  called  forth  this  perfect  confidence,  with- 
out the  remotest  suspicion  of  any  dissimulation  on  your 
part,  or  the  least  desire  to  conceal  anything  from  you 
on  mine,  —  this  wish  to  be  wholly  known  to  you  even 
as  I  am, — this  attachment,  in  which  difference  of 
sex  has  not  the  remotest  perceptible  influence  (for  far- 
ther can  no  mortal  know  his  own  heart),  —  this  true 
esteem  for  your  spiritual  nature,  and  acquiescence  in 
whatever  you  resolve  upon.  Judge,  then,  whether  it 
is  for  want  of  other  female  society  that  you  have  made 
an  impression  upon  me  which  no  one  else  has  done, 
and  taught  me  a  new  mode  of  feeling.  6  Whether  I 
will  forget  you  when  distant  ?  '  Does  man  forget  a 
new  mode  of  being  and  its  cause  ?  "  

"  The  warm  sympathy  which  appears  in  all  these 
inquiries,  the  delightful  kindness  you  have  shown  me  on 
all  occasions,  the  rapture  which  I  feel  when  I  know  that 
I  am  not  indifferent  to  such  a  person, —  these,  dearest, 
deserve  that  I  should  say  nothing  to  you  which  is  pro- 
faned by  flattery,  and  that  he  whom  you  consider  worthy 


MEMOIR   OF   FICHTE. # 


29 


of  your  friendship  should  not  debase  himself  by  a  false 
modesty.  Your  own  fair,  open  soul  deserves  that  I 
should  never  seem  to  doubt  its  pure  expression,  and 
hence  I  promise,  on  my  side  too,  perfect  openness." 

"  '  Whether  there  can  be  love  without  esteem  ? '  Oh 
yes, —  thou  dear,  pure  one  !  Love  is  of  many  kinds. 
Rousseau  proves  that  by  his  reasoning,  and  still  better 
by  his  example.  '  La  pauvre  Marxian  '  and  1  Madame 
N  'love  in  very  different  fashions.  But  I  be- 
lieve there  are  many  kinds  of  love  which  do  not  appear 
in  Rousseau's  life.  You  are  very  right  in  saying  that  no 
true  and  enduring  love  can  exist  without  cordial  esteem  ; 
that  every  other  draws  regret  after  it,  and  is  unworthy 
of  any  noble  human  soul. 

u  One  word  about  pietism.  Pietists  place  religion 
mostly  in  externals  ;  in  acts  of  worship  performed  me- 
chanically, without  aim,  as  bond-service  to  God  ;  in 
orthodoxy  of  opinion,  &c.  (fee.  ;  and  they  have  this 
among  other  characteristic  marks,  that  they  give  them- 
selves more  solicitude  about  others'  piety  than  their  own. 
It  is  not  right  to  hate  these  men, —  we  should  hate  no  one, 
—  but  to  me  they  are  very  contemptible,  for  their  char- 
acter implies  the  most  deplorable  emptiness  of  the  head, 
and  the  most  sorrowful  perversion  of  the  heart.  Such 
my  dear  friend  can  never  be  ;  she  cannot  become  such, 
even  were  it  possible  —  which  it  is  not  —  that  her  char- 
acter were  perverted  ;  she  can  never  become  such,  her 
nature  has  too  much  reality  in  it.  Your  trust  in  Provi- 
dence, your  anticipations  of  a  future  life,  are  wise  and 

Christian.    I  hope,  if  I  may  venture  to  speak  of  my- 
2# 


30 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


self,  that  no  one  will  take  me  to  be  a  pietist  or  stiff 
formalist,  but  I  know  no  feelings  more  thoroughly  inter- 
woven with  my  soul  than  these  are." 

###### 

"I  am  once  more* within  these  walls,  which  are 
only  dear  to  me  because  they  enclose  you  ;  and  when 
again  left  to  myself,  to  my  solitude,  to  my  own  thoughts, 
my  soul  flies  directly  to  your  presence.  Plow  is  this  ? 
It  is  but  three  days  since  I  have  seen  you,  and  I  must 
often  be  absent  from  you  for  a  longer  period  than  that. 
Distance  is  but  distance,  and  I  am  equally  separated 
from  you  in  Flaach  or  in  Zurich  —  But  how  comes  it 
that  this  absence  has  seemed  to  me  longer  than  usual, 
that  my  heart  longs  more  earnestly  to  be  with  you,  that 
I  imagine  I  have  not  seen  you  for  a  week  ?  Have  I 
philosophized  falsely  of  late  about  distance  ?  Oh  that 
our  feelings  must  still  contradict  the  firmest  conclusions 

of  our  reason  !  "  "  You  know 

doubtless  that  my  peace  has  been  broken  by  intelligence 
of  the  death  of  a  man  whom  I  prized  and  loved,  whose 
esteem  was  one  of  the  sweetest  enjoyments  which  Zurich 
has  afforded  me,  and  whose  friendship  I  would  still 
seek  to  deserve  ;  and  you  would  weep  with  me  if  you 
knew  how  dear  this  man  was  to  me." 

###### 

u  Your  offer  of  Friday  has  touched  me  deeply  ;  it 
has  convinced  me  yet  more  strongly,  if  that  were  pos- 
sible, of  your  worth.  Not  because  you  are  willing,  for 
my  sake,  to  deprive  yourself  of  something  which  may 
be  to  you  a  trifle,  as  you  say  it  is  —  a  thousand  others 
could  do  that  —  biit  that,  although  you  must  have  re- 


MEMOIR  OF  F1CHTE. 


31 


marked  something  of  my  way  of  thinking  ('  pride  '  the 
world  calls  it),  you  should  yet  have  made  that  offer  so 
naturally  and  openly,  as  if  your  whole  heart  had  told 
you  that  I  could  not  misunderstand  you  ;  that  although  I 
had  never  accepted  aught  from  any  man  on  earth,  yet 
that  1  would  accept  it  from  you  ;  that  we  were  too 
closely  united  to  have  different  opinions  about  such 
things  as  these.  Dearest,  you  have  given  me  a  proof 
of  your  confidence,  your  kindness,  your — (dare  I 
write  it  ?)  —  love,  than  which  there  could  be  no  greater. 
Were  I  not  now  wholly  yours  I  should  be  a  monster, 
without  head  or  heart  —  without  any  title  to  happiness. 

u  But  in  order  to  show  myself  to  you  in  a  just  light, 
you  have  here  my  true  thoughts  and  feelings  upon  this 
matter,  as  I  read  them  myself  in  my  own  breast. 

"  At  first  —  I  confess  it  with  deep  shame  —  at  first 
it  roused  my  pride.  Fool  that  I  was,  I  thought  for  a 
moment  —  not  longer,  that  you  had  misunderstood  what 
I  wrote  to  you  lately.  Yet  even  in  this  moment  I  was 
more  grieved  than  hurt  :  the  blow  came  from  your  hand. 
Instantly,  however,  my  better  nature  awoke  ;  I  felt  the 
whole  worth  of  your  heart,  and  I  was  deeply  moved. 
Had  not  your  father  come  at  this  moment,  I  could  not 
have  mastered  my  emotions  :  only  shame  for  having  for 
a  moment  undervalued  you  and  myself  kept  them  within 
bounds. 

"  Yet  I  cannot  accept  it  :  —  not  that  your  gift  would 
disgrace  me,  or  could  disgrace  me.  A  gift  out  of  mere 
compassion  for  my  poverty  I  could  abhor,  and  even  hate 
the  giver  :  — this  is  perhaps  the  most  neglected  part  of 
my  character.    But  the  gift  of  friendship,  of  a  friend- 


32 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


ship  which,  like  yours,  rests  upon  cordial  esteem,  can- 
not proceed  from  compassion,  and  is  an  honor  instead 
of  a  dishonor.  But,  in  truth,  I  need  it  not.  I  have 
indeed  no  money  by  me  at  present,  but  I  have  no  unusu- 
al disbursements  to  make,  and  I  shall  have  enough  to 
meet  my  very  small  regular  expenses  till  my  departure. 
I  seldom  come  into  difficulties  when  I  have  no  money, 
—  I  believe  Providence  watches  over  me.  1  have  ex- 
amples of  this  which  I  might  term  singular,  did  I  not 
recognize  in  them  the  hand  of  Providence,  which  con- 
descends even  to  our  meanest  wants. 

tc  Upon  the  whole,  gold  appears  to  me  a  very  insig- 
nificant commodity.  I  believe  that  a  man  with  any  in- 
tellect may  always  provide  for  his  wants  ;  and  for  more 
than  this,  gold  is  useless  ;  —  hence  I  have  always  de- 
spised it.  Unhappily  it  is  here  bound  up  with  a  part  of 
the  respect  which  our  fellow-men  entertain  for  us,  and 
this  has  never  been  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me. 
Perhaps  I  may  by  and  by  free  myself  from  this  wicked- 
ness also  :  it  does  not  contribute  to  our  peace. 

lt  On  account  of  this  contempt  of  money,  I  have  for 
four  years  never  accepted  a  farthing  from  my  parents, 
because  I  have  seven  sisters,  who  are  all  young  and  in 
part  uneducated,  and  because  I  have  a  father  who,  were 
I  to  allow  it,  would  in  his  kindness  bestow  upon  me  that 
which  is  the  right  of  his  other  children.  I  have  not 
accepted  even  presents  from  them  upon  any  pretence  ; 
and  since  then,  I  have  maintained  myself  very  well,  and 
stand  more  anion  aise  than  before  towards  my  parents, 
and  particularly  towards  my  too  kind  father. 

"  However,  I  promise  you  —  (how  happy  do  I  feel, 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


33 


dear,  noble  friend,  to  be  permitted  to  speak  thus  with 
you)  —  I  promise  you,  that  if  I  should  fall  into  any 
pecuniary  embarrassments  (as  there  is  no  likelihood  that 
I  shall,  with  my  present  mode  of  thinking  and  my  at- 
tendant fortune),  you  shall  be  the  first  person  to  whom 
I  shall  apply  —  to  whom  I  shall  have  applied  since  the 
time  I  declined  assistance  from  my  parents.  It  is 
worthy  of  your  kind  heart  to  receive  this  promise,  and 
it  is  not  unworthy  of  me  to  give  it." 

"  Could  anything  indemnify  me  for  the  loss  of  some 
hours  of  your  society,  I  should  be  indemnified.  I  have 
received  the  most  touching  proofs  of  the  attachment  of 
the  good  old  widow,  whom  I  have  only  seen  for  the 
third  time,  and  of  her  gratitude  for  a  few  courtesies 
which  were  to  me  nothing  —  absolutely  nothing,  had 
they  not  cost  me  two  days'  absence  from  you.  She 
wept  when  I  took  my  leave,  though  I  had  allowed  her 
to  expect  that  she  should  see  me  again  before  my  de- 
parture. I  desire  to  lay  aside  all  vanities  ;  —  with 
some,  the  desire  for  literary  fame,  &c,  I  have  in  a  cer- 
tain degree  succeeded  ;  but  the  desire  to  be  beloved  — 
beloved  by  simple  true  hearts  —  is  no  vanity,  and  I  will 
not  lay  it  aside  

"  What  a  wholly  new,  joyful,  bright  existence  I  have 
had  since  I  became  sure  of  being  yours  !  how  happy  I 
am  that  so  noble  a  soul  bestows  its  sympathy  upon  me, 
and  such  sympathy  !  — this  I  can  never  express.  Would 
that  I  could,  that  I  might  be  able  to  thank  you  !  .  .  .  . 

"  My  departure,  dearest,  draws  near,  and  you  have 
discovered  the  secret  of  making  the  day  which  formerly 


34 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


seemed  to  me  a  day  of  deliverance,  the  bitterest  in  my 
life.  I  shall  not  tell  you  whether  the  day  is  settled  or 
not.  If  you  do  not  absolutely  command  it,  you  shall 
not  know  of  it.  Leave-taking  is  bitter,  very  bitter,  and 
even  its  announcement  has  always  something  painful  in 
it.  But  one  of  us — and  I  shall  be  that  one  —  must 
bear  the  consciousness  that  thenceforth  (but  only  for  a 
time,  if  God  does  not  require  the  life  of  one  of  us)  we 
see  each  other  no  more.  Unless  you  absolutely  require 
it,  you  shall  not  know  when  I  am  with  you  for  the  last 
time." 

###### 

"  I  know  the  business  of  the  scholar  ;  I  have  no  new 
discoveries  to  make  about  it.  I  have  very  little  fitness 
for  being  a  scholar  a  metier  ;  I  must  not  only  think,  I 
must  act  :  least  of  all  can  I  think  about  trifles  ;  and 
hence  it  is  not  exactly  my  business  to  become  a  Swiss 

professor  —  that  is,  a  schoolman  Now 

I  think  that  the  way  which  you  propose  cannot  have  the 
effect  you  expect  from  it.  My  essays  cannot  create 
what  is  called  a  4  sensation  ;  '  this  is  not  in  them  nor  in 
me.  Many  would  not  even  understand  their  contents  ; 
those  who  did  understand  them,  would,  I  believe,  con- 
sider me  as  a  useful  man,  but  comme  ily  en  a  beaucoup. 
It  is  quite  another  thing  when  one  takes  an  interest  in 
the  author,  and  knows  him. 

"  If  you  should  be  able  to  excite  such  an  interest 
among  your  relatives,  then  indeed  something  more  might 
be  expected.  But  the  matter  does  not  seem  pressing. 
Before  all  things  there  must  be  a  professorship  vacant 
at  Bern,  and  indeed  such  a  one  as  I  could  undertake. 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


35 


Then  it  would  be  difficult,  during  my  stay  here,  to  make 
a  copy  of  my  essays.  And  perhaps  I  shall  write  some- 
thing better  afterwards,  or  perhaps  I  shall  hit  upon 
some  arrangement  in  Leipzic  respecting  these  essays, 
which  can  easily  be  made  known  in  Bern.  At  all 
events,  you  shall  know,  and  every  good  man  who  takes 
any  interest  in  me  shall  always  know  where  I  am.  At 
the  same  time  I  entreat  of  you, —  although  I  know  your 
good  will  towards  me  does  not  need  the  request, —  both 
now  and  after  my  departure,  to  omit  no  opportunity 
which  presents  itself  of  doing  me  any  service,  and  to 
inform  me  of  it.  I  believe  in  a  Providence,  and  I  watch 
its  signs." 

"  So  you  desire  this  bitter  leave-taking  ?  Be  it  so, 
but  under  one  condition  :  I  must  bid  you  farewell  alone. 
In  the  presence  of  any  other,  even  of  your  excellent 
father,  I  should  suffer  from  the  reserve  of  which  I  com- 
plain so  much.  I  depart,  since  it  must  be  told,  to-mor- 
row eight-days.  This  day  week  I  see  you  for  the  last 
time,  for  I  set  out  very  early  on  Sunday.  Try  to 
arrange  that  I  may  see  you  alone  :  how  it  is  to  be  ar- 
ranged I  know  not,  but  I  would  far  rather  take  no  leave 
of  you  at  all,  than  take  a  cold  formal  one. 

"  I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  noble  letter  of  yester- 
day, particularly  because  your  narrative  confirms  me  so 
strongly  in  a  much  cherished  principle.  God  cares  for 
us  —  He  will  forsake  no  honorable  man." 

"  And  so  be  convinced  that  nothing  can  turn  my 
thoughts  from  you.  The  reasons  you  have  long  known. 


36 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


You  know  my  heart  ;  you  know  yourself ;  you  know 
that  I  know  you  :  can  you  then  doubt  that  I  have  found 
the  only  female  soul  which  I  can  value,  honor,  and 
love  ?  —  that  I  have  nothing  more  to  seek  from  the  sex, 

—  that  I  can  find  nothing  more  that  is  mine  ?  " 

Towards  the  close  of  March,  1790,  Fichte  left  Zurich 
on  his  return  to  his  native  land,  with  some  letters  of 
recommendation  to  the  Courts  of  Wirtemberg  and 
Weimar.    He  was  once  more  thrown  upon  the  world  ; 

—  his  outward  prospects  as  uncertain  as  when  he  enter- 
ed Switzerland  two  years  before.  Poverty  again  com- 
pelled him  to  travel  for  the  most  part  on  foot,  but,  as 
before,  the  toil  of  his  journey  was  lightened  by  a  high 
sense  of  honor,  an  inflexible  courage,  an  unwavering 
faith  ;  and  to  these  was  now  added  a  sweeter  guide  — 
a  star  of  milder  radiance,  which  threw  a  soft  but  steady 
light  upon  the  wanderer's  way,  and  pointed  him  to  a 
happy  though  distant  place  of  rest.  His  love  was  no 
fleeting  passion,  no  maudlin  sensibility,  but  united  itself 
with  his  philosophy  and  his  religion  in  one  ever-flowing 
fountain  of  spiritual  power.  The  world  might  turn 
coldly  away  from  him,  for  it  knew  him  not  ;  but  he  did 
not  stoop  to  its  meanness,  because  he  did  not  seek  its 
rewards.  He  had  one  object  before  him  —  the  develop- 
ment of  his  own  nature  ;  and  there  was  one  who  knew 
him,  whose  thoughts  were  with  him  from  afar,  whose 
sympathies  were  all  his  own.  His  labors  might  be  ar- 
duous, but  they  could  not  now  be  in  vain,  for  although 
the  destiny  of  his  being  did  not  as  yet  lie  before  him  in 
perfect  theoretical  clearness,  yet  his  integrity  of  purpose 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


37 


and  purity  of  feeling  unconsciously  preserved  him  from 
error,  while  the  energy  of  his  will  bore  him  upward  and 
onward  over  the  petty  obstructions  of  life. 

He  arrived  at  Stuttgard  in  the  beginning  of  April,  but 
not  finding  his  recommendations  to  the  Wirtemberg 
Court  of  much  advantage,  he  left  it  after  a  short  stay. 
On  his  way  to  Saxony  he  visited  Weimar.  He  did  not 
see  Herder,  who  was  ill,  nor  Goethe,  who  was  absent 
on  his  Italian  tour,  nor  Schiller,  who  was  at  this  time 
commencing  his  labors  as  Professor  of  History  at  Jena. 
He  returned  to  Leipzic  about  the  middle  of  May,  his 
small  stock  of  money  exhausted  by  the  expenses  of  his 
journey ;  and  was  kindly  received  by  his  friend  Weisse, 
through  whose  recommendation  he  had  obtained  the 
appointment  at  Zurich.  Discovering  no  prospect  of 
obtaining  any  preceptorship  of  a  superior  kind,  he  en- 
gaged in  literary  occupations  in  order  to  procure  a  liveli- 
hood. He  conceived  the  plan  of  a  monthly  literary 
journal,  the  principal  objects  of  which  should  be  to 
expose  the  dangerous  tendencies  of  the  prevalent  liter- 
ature of  the  day,  to  show  the  mutual  influence  of  correct 
taste  and  pure  morality,  and  to  direct  its  readers  to  the 
best  authors,  both  of  past  and  present  times.  But  such 
an  undertaking  was  too  much  opposed  to  the  interests 
of  the  booksellers  to  find  favor  in  their  eyes.  u  I  have," 
he  says,  "  spoken  to  well-disposed  people  on  this  mat- 
ter, to  Weisse  and  Palmer  ;  they  all  admit  that  it  is  a 
good  and  useful  idea,  and  indeed  a  want  of  the  age,  but 
they  all  tell  me  that  I  shall  find  no  publisher.  I  have 
therefore,  out  of  sorrow,  communicated  my  plan  to  no 
bookseller,  and  I  must  now  write — not  pernicious 
3 


38  MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


writings  —  that  I  will  never  do,  but  something  that  is 
neither  good  nor  bad,  in  order  to  earn  a  little  money.  I 
am  now  engaged  on  a  tragedy,  a  business  which  of  all 
possible  occupations  least  belongs  to  me,  and  of  which 
I  shall  certainly  make  nothing  ;  and  upon  novels,  small 
romantic  stories  —  a  kind  of  reading  which  is  good  for 
nothing  but  to  kill  time  ;  this,  however,  it  seems,  is  what 
the  booksellers  will  take  and  pay  for." 

So  far  as  his  outward  existence  was  concerned, 
this  residence  at  Leipzic  was  a  period  of  great  uncer- 
tainty and  trouble.  He  could  obtain  no  settled  occu- 
pation, but  was  driven  from  one  expedient  to  another  to 
procure  the  means  of  subsistence.  At  one  time  he 
gives  u  a  lesson  in  Greek  to  a  young  man  between  11 
and  12  o'clock,"  and  spends  the  rest  of  the  day  in 
study  and  starvation.  His  tragedy  and  novel  writing 
would  not  last  long,  nor  be  very  tolerable  while  it  did 
last.  In  August  he  writes  — "  Bernstorff  must  have  re- 
ceived my  letter  and  essay  ;  I  gave  it  into  Herr  Bonn's 
own  hands,  and  he  promised  to  take  care  of  it  ;  yet  I 
have  no  answer.  A  lady  at  Weimar  had  a  plan  to  ob- 
tain for  me  a  good  situation  ;  it  must  have  failed,  for  I 
have  not  heard  from  her  for  two  months.  Of  other 
prospects  which  I  thought  almost  certain,  I  shall  be 
silent.  As  for  authorship,  I  have  been  able  to  do  little 
or  nothing,  for  I  am  so  distracted  and  tossed  about  by 
constant  schemes  and  undertakings,  that  I  have  had 

few  quiet  days  In  short,  Providence 

either  has  something  else  in  store  for  me,  and  hence 
will  give  me  nothing  to  do  here,  as  indeed  has  been  the 
case  ;  or  intends  by  these  troubles  to  exercise  and  in- 
vigorate me  still  further.   I  have  lost  almost  everything, 


ME  MO  J  R   OF  FICIITE. 


39 


except  my  courage."  Again  we  hear  of  a  distant  pros- 
pect of  going  to  Vienna  to  prosecute  his  literary  schemes, 
and  thus  of  being  nearer  Zurich  —  nay,  when  on  his 
way,  of  even  visiting  it.  And  then  again  —  "  This  week 
seems  to  be  a  critical  time  with  me  ;  —  all  my  prospects, 
even  the  last,  have  vanished."  But  his  strength  did 
not  fail  him  ;  alone  and  unfriended,  he  shrank  not  from 
the  bitter  trial.  Adversity  might  roll  her  billows  over 
his  head,  but  her  rage  was  spent  in  vain  against  a  soul 
which  she  could  bend  to  no  unworthy  deed. 

And  yet  he  was  not  alone.  A  fair  and  gentle  spirit 
was  ever  by  his  side,  whispering  to  him  of  peace, 
and  happiness,  and  love.  "  In  the  twilight,"  he  says, 
u  before  I  light  my  lamp,  I  dream  myself  back  to  thee, 
sit  by  thy  side,  chat  with  thee,  and  ask  whether  I  am 
still  dear  to  thee  ;  —  ask  indeed,  but  not  from  doubt  — 
I  know  before-hand  that  thou  wilt  answer,  yes.  I  am 
always  with  thee  on  Saturdays.  I  cannot  give  up  those 
Saturday  meetings.  I  think  I  am  still  in  Zurich,  take 
my  hat  and  stick  and  will  come  to  thee  ;  and  then  I  re 
member,  and  fret  at  fortune,  and  laugh  at  myself." 
Amid  the  desolation  of  his  outward  prospects,  the  cur- 
rent of  his  affections  seems  to  have  flowed  only  more 
strongly  and  fully.  In  them  he  found  a  refuge  from 
unworthy  thoughts,  a  strong  support  in  the  conflict  with 
misery  and  want.  As  the  Alpine  plant  strikes  its  roots 
more  firmly  in  barren  and  rocky  places,  so  did  his  love 
cling  more  closely  round  his  soul,  when  every  other  joy 
had  died  and  withered  there. 

"  The  wretched  are  the  faithful :  'tis  their  fate 
To  have  all  feeling,  save  the  one,  decay, 
And  every  passion  into  one  dilate." 


40 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


u  Thou  dear  angel-soul,"  he  writes,  c<  do  ihou  help 
me,  do  thou  keep  me  from  falling  !  And  so  thou  dost. 
What  sorrow  can  grieve,  what  distress  can  discourage 
me,  so  long  as  I  possess  the  firm  assurance  that  I  have 
the  sympathy  of  the  best  and  noblest  of  women,  that 
she  looks  upon  her  destiny  as  inseparably  bound  up  in 
mine  ;  that  our  hearts  are  one  ?  Providence  has  given 
me  thy  heart,  and  I  want  nothing  more.  Mine  is  thine 
for  ever." 

Of  a  project  for  engaging  him  in  the  ministry,  he  thus 
writes — "I  know  my  opinions.  I  am  neither  of  the 
Lutheran  nor  Reformed  Church,  but  of  the  Christian  ; 
and  were  I  compelled  to  choose,  I  should  (since  no 
purely  Christian  community  now  exists)  attach  myself 
to  that  community  in  which  there  is  most  freedom  of 
thought  and  charity  of  life  ;  and  that  is  not  the  Luthe- 
ran, I  think  I  have  given  up  these 

hopes  in  my  fatherland  entirely.  There  is  indeed  a 
degree  of  enlightenment  and  rational  religious  knowl- 
edge existing  among  the  younger  clergy  of  the  present 
day,  which  is  not  to  be  found  to  the  same  extent  in  any 
other  country  of  Europe.  But  this  is  crushed  by  a 
worse  than  Spanish  inquisition,  under  which  they  must 
cringe  and  dissemble,  partly  because  they  are  deficient 
in  ability,  partly  because  in  consequence  of  the  number 
of  clergy  in  our  land  their  services  can  be  spared,  while 
they  cannot  cannot  sacrifice  their  employment.  Hence 
arises  a  slavish,  crouching,  hypocritical  spirit.  A  rev- 
olution is  indeed  impending  :  but  when  ?  and  how  ? 
In  short,  I  will  be  no  preacher  in  Saxony." 

The  only  record  of  his  religious  opinions  at  this  time 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


41 


which  is  preserved,  is  a  remarkable  fragment,  entitled  \ 
61  Aphorisms  on  Religion  and  Deism."  The  object 
of  this  essay  was  to  set  at  rest  the  much-vexed  ques- 
tions between  Philosophy  and  Christianity,  by  strictly 
defining  the  respective  provinces  of  each  ;  by  distin- 
guishing between  the  objective  reality  which  reason 
demands  of  philosophy,  and  the  incarnate  form  of  truth 
which  religion  offers  to  the  feelings  and  sympathies  of 
men.  In  the  adaptation  of  Christianity  to  the  wants  of 
the  sinner,  in  its  appeal  to  the  heart  rather  than  to  the 
understanding,  he  finds  the  explanation  of  its  nature 
and  purposes  :  "  Those  who  are  whole  need  not  the 
physician,  but  those  who  are  sick."  u  I  am  come  not 
to  call  the  righteous  but  sinners  to  repentance."  This 
fragment,  by  its  distinct  recognition  of  the  radical  dif- 
ference between  feeling  and  knowledge,  and  the  conse- 
quent vanity  of  any  attempt  to  decide  between  the 
different  aspects  which  the  great  questions  of  human 
destiny  assume  before  the  cognitive  and  sensitive  fac- 
ulties, may  be  looked  upon  as  the  stepping-stone  to 
that  important  revolution  in  Fichte's  mental  world, 
to  which  the  attention  of  the  reader  must  now  be  di- 
rected. 

The  Critical  or  Kantean  Philosophy  was  at  this 
time  the  great  topic  of  discussion  in  the  higher  circles 
of  Germany.  Virulently  assailed  by  the  defenders  of 
the  existing  systems,  with  Herder  at  their  head,  it  was 
as  eagerly  supported  by  a  crow7d  of  followers,  who 
looked  upon  Kant  with  an  almost  fanatical  veneration. 
Fichte's  attention  was  turned  to  it  quite  accidentally. 
Some  increased  success  in  teaching,  during  the  winter 
3* 


42 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


of  1790,  rendered  his  outward  circumstances  more 
comfortable  than  before,  and  left  his  mind  more  at 
liberty  to  engage  in  serious  study.  He  plunged  with 
enthusiasm  into  the  new  philosophy. 

The  system  of  religious  necessarianism  before  al- 
luded to,  which  frequently  shows  itself  in  his  letters, 
was  by  no  means  in  harmony  with  the  natural  bent  of 
his  character.  His  energy  of  will  and  restless  spirit  of 
enterprise  assorted  ill  with  a  theory  in  which  he  was 
compelled  to  regard  himself  as  a  passive  instrument  in 
the  hands  of  a  higher  power.  This  inconsistency 
must  have  often  suggested  itself  to  him  before  he  met 
with  its  remedy  ;  he  must  have  frequently  felt,  that  the 
theory  which  satisfied  his  understanding  stood  in  oppo- 
sition to  his  feelings.  He  could  not  be  contented  with 
any  superficial  or  partial  reconcilement  of  this  opposi- 
tion. But  he  was  now  introduced  to  a  system  in  which 
his  difficulties  disappeared  ;  in  which,  by  a  rigid  ex- 
amination of  the  cognitive  faculty,  the  boundaries  of 
human  knowledge  were  accurately  defined,  and  within 
those  boundaries  its  legitimacy  successfully  vindicated 
against  skepticism  on  the  one  hand,  and  blind  credulity 
on  the  other  ;  in  which  the  facts  of  man's  moral  nature 
furnished  an  indestructible  foundation  for  a  system  of 
ethics  where  duty  was  neither  resolved  into  self-interest, 
nor  degraded  into  the  slavery  of  superstition,  but  recog- 
nised by  free-will  as  the  absolute  law  of  its  being,  in 
the  strength  of  which  it  was  to  front  the  necessity  of 
nature,  break  down  every  obstruction  that  barred  its 
way,  and  rise  at  last,  unaided,  to  the  sublime  conscious- 
ness of  an  independent,  and  therefore  eternal,  existence. 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


43 


Such  a  theory  was  well  calculated  to  rouse  Fichte's 
enthusiasm,  and  engage  all  his  powers.  The  light 
which  he  had  been  unconsciously  seeking  now  burst 
upon  his  sight, — every  doubt  vanished  before  it,  and 
the  purpose  of  his  being  lay  clear  and  distinct  before 
him.  The  world,  and  man's  life  in  it,  acquired  a  new 
significance,  every  faculty  a  clearer  vision,  every  power 
a  fresher  energy.    But  he  must  speak  for  himself:  — 

£o  ^djctfs  at  23rcmcn. 

cc  The  last  four  or  five  months  which  I  have  passed 
in  Leipzic  have  been  the  happiest  period  of  my  life  ; 
and  what  is  most  satisfactory  about  it  is,  that  I  have  to 
thank  no  man  for  the  smallest  ingredient  in  its  plea- 
sures. You  know  that  before  leaving  Zurich  I  became 
somewhat  sickly :  either  it  was  partly  imagination,  or 
the  cookery  did  not  agree  with  me.  Since  my  de- 
parture from  Zurich  I  have  been  health  itself,  and  I 
know  how  to  prize  this  blessing.  The  circumstances 
of  my  stay  in  Zurich,  and  still  more  of  my  travels,  had 
strained  my  fancy  to  an  unnatural  height.  When  I 
came  to  Leipzic,  my  brain  swarmed  with  great  plans. 
All  were  wrecked  ;  and  of  so  many  soap-bubbles  there 
now  remains  not  even  the  light  froth  which  composed 
them.  This  disturbed  my  peace  of  mind  a  little,  and 
it  was  half  in  despair  that  I  joined  a  party  to  which  1 
should  long  ere  now  have  belonged.  Since  I  could 
not  alter  my  outward  circumstances,  I  resolved  upon 
internal  change.  I  threw  myself  into  philosophy,  and, 
as  you  know,  into  the  Kantean.  Here  I  found  the 
remedy  for  my  evils,  and  joy  enough  to  boot.  The 


44 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


influence  of  this  philosophy,  and  particularly  the  moral 
part  of  it  (which,  however,  is  unintelligible  without 
previous  study  of  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason),  upon 
the  whole  spiritual  life,  and  particularly  the  revolution 
which  it  has  caused  in  my  own  mode  of  thought,  is 
indescribable.  To  you,  especially,  I  owe  the  ac- 
knowledgment, that  I  now  heartily  believe  in  the  free- 
dom of  man,  and  am  well  convinced  that  it  is  only  on 
this  supposition  that  duty,  virtue,  or  morality  of  any 
kind,  is  so  much  as  possible  ; —  a  truth  which  indeed  I 
saw  before,  and  perhaps  acquired  from  you.  Further, 
it  is  very  evident  to  me,  that  many  pernicious  conse- 
quences to  society  flow  from  the  commonly-received 
principle  of  the  necessity  of  all  human  actions  ;  that  it 
is  the  source  of  a  great  part  of  the  immorality  of  the 
so-called  higher  classes  ;  and  that  if  any  one,  accepting 
this  principle,  yet  preserves  himself  pure  from  such 
corruption,  it  is  not  on  account  of  the  innocence,  or 
even  the  utility  of  the  principle  itself.  Your  uncor- 
rupted  moral  feelings  guided  you  more  truly  than  did 
my  arguments,  and  you  must  admit  that,  in  the  latter 
respect,  error  is  pardonable.  A  multitude  of  others, 
who  do  not  err,  have  to  thank,  not  their  greater  acute- 
ness,  but  their  inconsequential  reasoning.  I  am  also 
firmly  convinced  that  this  is  no  land  of  enjoyment  here 
below,  but  a  land  of  laDor  and  toil,  and  that  every  joy 
should  be  nothing  more  than  a  refreshment  and  an  in- 
centive to  greater  exertion  ;  that(the  ordering  of  our 
fortune  is  not  demanded  of  us,  but  only  the  cultivation 
of  ourselves  Hence  I  do  not  trouble  myself  about 
outward  things, — endeavor  not  to  seem,  but  to  be; 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


45 


and  it  is  to  these  convictions  that  I  am  indebted  for  the 
deep  tranquillity  of  soul  which  I  enjoy.  My  external 
circumstances  suit  well  with  these  dispositions.  I  am 
master  of  no  one,  and  no  one's  servant.*  I  have 
no  further  prospects :)  the  present  constitution  of  the 
church,  and  indeed  the  men  who  compose  it,  do  not 
please  me.  So  long  as  I  can  maintain  my  present 
independence,  I  shall  do  so  at  all  hazards. 

"  You  ask  whether  I  contribute  to  the  journals  ? 
No,  to  none  of  them.  It  was  my  intention,  at  first, 
to  write  for  the  "  Bibliothek  der  Schonen  Wissen- 
scbaften."  But  all  is  anarchy  there.  Weisse  is  called 
the  editor,  but  the  bookseller  is  the  editor  ;  and  I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  a  bookseller  in  matters  of  this 
kind.  I  sent  my  essay  upon  Klopstock's  Messias  to 
B.  for  the  "  Deutsche  Museum."  He  replied,  that 
he  feared  that  the  poet,  who  had  for  some  time  honored 
him  with  his  friendship,  would  take  it  ill  if  he  should 
publish  an  essay  which  might  put  his  Messias  in  danger, 
&c,  &c.  I  was  satisfied  with  his  answer,  for  I  had 
already  repented  of  the  sin.  If  ever  I  become  an 
author,  it  shall  be  on  my  own  account.  Moreover, 
authorship  as  a  trade  is  not  for  me.  It  is  incredible 
how  much  labor  it  costs  me  to  accomplish  something 
with  which,  after  all,  I  am  but  half  satisfied.  The  more 
I  write,  the  more  difficult  does  it  become.  I  see  that 
I  want  the  living  fire." 

On  the  same  subject,  he  writes  to  his  school  and 
college  friend  Weisshuhn  :  — 

u  I  have  lived  in  a  new  world  since  I  have  read  the 
Critique  of  Practical  Reason.     Principles  which  I 


46 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


believed  were  irrefragable,  are  refuted  ;  things  which 
I  thought  could  never  be  proved, — as  for  example,  the 
idea  of  absolute  freedom,  of  duty,  —  are  proved  ;  and 
I  am  so  much  the  happier.  It  is  indescribable  what 
respect  for  humanity,  what  power  this  system  gives  us  ! 
But  why  should  I  say  this  to  you,  who  have  known  it 
longer  than  I  have  done  ?  What  a  blessing  to  an  age 
in  which  morality  was  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  the 
name  of  duty  obliterated  from  every  vocabulary  !  " 

And  with  still  greater  warmth  he  speaks  of  his  new 
studies  to  Johanna  Rahn  :  — 

"  My  scheming  spirit  has  now  found  rest,  and  I  thank 
Providence  that,  shortly  before  all  my  hopes  were 
frustrated,  I  was  placed  in  a  position  which  enabled  me 
to  bear  the  diappointment  with  cheerfulness.  A  cir- 
cumstance, which  seemed  the  result  of  mere  chance, 
led  me  to  give  myself  up  entirely  to  the  study  of  the 
Kantean  philosophy  —  a  philosophy  that  restrains  the 
imagination,  which  was  always  too  powerful  with  me, 
gives  reason  the  sway,  and  ^raises  the  soul  to  an  inde- 
scribable elevation  above  all  earthly  concerns.  I  have 
accepted  a  nobler  morality,  and  instead  of  occupying 
myself  with  outward  things,  I  employ  myself  more  with 
my  own  being.  This  has  given  me  a  peace  such  as  I 
have  never  before  experienced  :  amid  uncertain  worldly 
prospects  I  have  passed  my  happiest  days.  I  shall 
devote  some  years  of  my  life  to  this  philosophy  ;  and 
all  that  I  write,  at  least  for  several  years  to  come,  shall 
be  upon  it.    It  is  difficult  beyond  all  conception,  and 

stands  much  in  need  of  simplification  

The  principles  are  indeed  hard  speculations  which  have 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


47 


no  direct  bearing  on  human  life,  but  their  consequences 
are  most  important  for  an  age  whose  morality  is  cor- 
rupted at  the  fountain-head  ;  and  to  set  these  conse- 
quences before  the  world  in  a  clear  light,  would,  I 
believe,  be  doing  it  a  good  service.  Say  to  thy  dear 
father,  whom  I  love  as  my  own,  that  we  erred  in  our 
inquiries  into  the  necessity  of  human  actions,  for  al- 
though we  proceeded  with  accuracy,  we  set  out  from  a 
false  principle.  I  am  now  thoroughly  convinced  that 
the  human  will  is  free,  and  that  to  be  happy  is  not  the 
purpose  of  our  being,  — but  to  deserve  happiness.  I 
have  to  ask  pardon  of  thee  too,  for  having  often  led 
thee  astray  by  such  assertions.  Achelis  was  right  ; 
without  knowing  it  indeed  ;  and  why  ?  Henceforth 
believe  in  thine  own  feelings  ;  thou  mayst  not  be  able 
to  confute  opposing  reasoners,  yet  they  shall  be  con- 
futed, and  are  so  already,  though  they  do  not  under- 
stand the  confutation." 

Inspired  with  this  enthusiastic  admiration  for  the 
Critical  Philosophy,  he  resolved  to  become  the  expo- 
nent of  its  principles,  and  to  rescue  it  from  the  obscurity 
which  an  uncouth  terminology  had  thrown  around  it. 
This  attempt  had  indeed  been  made  already,  and  was 
still  making,  by  a  host  of  commentators,  but  the  ma- 
jority of  these  were  either  deficient  in  capacity,  or, 
actuated  by  sordid  motives,  had  eagerly  seized  the 
opportunity  of  gain  which  the  prevalent  excitement  af- 
forded, and  crowded  the  literary  market  with  crude  and 
superficial  productions.  Fichte  accordingly  commenc- 
ed an  expository  abridgment  of  Kant's  Critique  of  the 
faculty  of  judgment.    It  was  to  be  divided  into  two 


48 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


parts, — the  one  devoted  to  the  power  of  aesthetical, 
the  other  to  that  of  teleological  judgment.  The  first 
part  was  completed  and  sent  to  his  friend  Weisshuhn 
for  correction,  but  the  progress  of  the  work  was  inter- 
rupted by  events  which  caused  him  to  leave  Leipzic  : 
it  was  never  finished,  and  no  part  of  it  was  published. 

Interesting  and  remarkable  too  in  this  connection  is 
the  following  passage  from  a  letter  written  about  this 
time  to  a  literary  friend  :  — 

"  If  I  am  not  deceived  by  the  disposition  of  youth, 
which  is  more  ready  to  hope  than  to  fear,  the  golden 
age  of  our  literature  is  at  hand  ;  it  will  be  enduring,  and 
may  perhaps  surpass  the  most  bnlliant  period  in  that  of 
any  other  nation.  The  seed  which  Lessing  sowed  in 
his  letters,  and  in  his  'Dramaturgic,'  now  begins  to 
bear  fruit.  His  principles  seem  every  day  to  be  more 
extensively  received  and  made  the  foundation  of  our 
literary  judgments  ;  and  Goethe's  4  Iphigenie  '  is  the 
strongest  proof  of  the  possibility  of  their  realization. 
And  it  seems  to  me,  that  he  who  in  his  twentieth  year 
wrote  the  4  Robbers,'  will,  sooner  or  later,  tread  in 
the  same  path,  and  in  his  fortieth  become  our  4  Sopho- 
cles.'" 

And  so  it  was  !  —  He  who  in  his  twentieth  year 
wrote  the  44  Robbers,"  did  literally  in  his  fortieth  pro- 
duce his  u  Wallenstein,"  followed  in  brilliant  succession 
by  44  Mary  Stuart,"  4'  The  Maid  of  Orleans,"  —  and, 
last  and  brightest  of  the  train,  by  "  William  Tell,"  — 
a  parting  gift  to  the  world  from  the  44  Sophocles  "  of 
Germany. 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


49 


And  now  the  time  drew  near  which  was  at  once  to 
terminate  his  struggles  with  fortune,  and  realize  the 
dearest  wish  of  his  heart.  It  had  been  arranged  that 
Fichte  should  return  to  Zurich  in  1791,  to  be  united 
with  her  whom  he  most  loved  and  honored  upon  earth. 
The  noble-minded  woman  who  was  now  to  bind  herself 
to  him  for  ever,  had  resolved  that  henceforth  he  should 
pursue  his  literary  undertakings,  free  from  the  cares  of 
life.  But  Fichte  looked  forward  to  no  period  of  inglo- 
rious repose  ;  his  ardent  spirit  had  already  formed  a 
thousand  plans  of  useful  and  honorable  activity.  "  Not 
happiness,  but  labor,"  was  his  principle  —  a  principle 
which  ruled  all  his  actions,  in  prosperity  as  well  as  in 
adversity.  His  letters  to  Johanna  Rahn,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  this  joyful  event,  breathe  the  same  dignified  ten- 
derness which  characterized  their  earlier  correspond- 
ence :  — 

"  And  so,  dearest,  I  solemnly  devote  myself  to  thee, 
— consecrate  myself  to  be  thine.  I  thank  thee  that 
thou  hast  thought  me  not  unworthy  to  be  thy  compan- 
ion on  the  journey  of  life.  I  have  undertaken  much  : 
one  day — God  grant  it  be  a  distant  one  !  —  to  take 
the  place  of  thy  noble  father  ;  to  become  the  recom- 
pense of  thy  early  wTisdom,  of  thy  child-like  love,  of 
thy  steadfast  virtue.  The  thought  of  the  great  duties 
which  I  take  upon  me,  makes  me  feel  how  little 
I  am.  But  the  feeling  of  the  greatness  of  these  duties 
shall  exalt  me  ;  and  thy  love,  thy  too  favorable  opinion 
of  me,  will  lend  to  my  imperfection  all  that  I  want. 
There  is  no  land  of  happiness  here  below  —  I  know  it 
4 


50 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


now  —  but  a  land  of  toil,  where  every  joy  but  strength- 
ens us  for  greater  labor.  Hand  in  hand  we  shall  tra- 
verse it,  and  encourage  and  strengthen  each  other,  until 
our  spirits  —  O  may  it  be  together  !  —  shall  rise  to  the 
eternal  fountain  of  all  peace.  I  stand  now  in  fancy  at 
the  most  important  point  of  my  earthly  existence,  which 
divides  it  into  two  different,  very  different,  portions, 
—  and  marvel  at  the  unseen  hand  which  has  led  me 
through  the  first,  dangerous  part,  through  the  land  of 
perplexity  and  doubt  !  How  long  had  I  despaired  of 
such  a  companion  as  thou,  in  whom  manly  dignity  and 
female  tenderness  are  united  !  What  if  I  had  content- 
ed myself  with  some  decorated  puppet  of  thy  sex  ?  — 
that  Being  who  rules  all  things  was  kinder  to  me  than, 
in  the  feeling  of  my  unworthiness,  I  had  dared  to  wish  or 
hope  ; — I  was  led  to  thee.  That  Being  will  do  yet 
more  for  me.  We  shall  one  day,  O  dearest,  stand 
again  at  the  partition-wall  which  shall  divide  our  whole 
life  into  two  parts  —  into  an  earthly  and  a  spiritual  ;  — 
and  then  shall  we  look  upon  the  latter  part  of  the  earth- 
ly which  we  shall  have  traversed  together,  as  we  do 
now  upon  its  first  part  ;  and  surely  we  shall  then  too 
marvel  at  the  same  wisdom  which  now  calls  forth  our 
wonder,  but  with  loftier  feelings  and  with  clearer  insight. 

I  love  to  place  myself  in  that  position  

"  The  surest  means  of  acquiring  a  conviction  of  a 
life  after  death,  is  so  to  act  in  this  life  that  we  can  ven- 
ture to  wish  for  another.  He  who  feels  that  if  there 
is  a  God  he  must  look  down  graciously  upon  him,  will 
not  be  disturbed  by  arguments  against  his  being,  and 
he  needs  none  for  it.    He  who  has  sacrificed  so  much 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


51 


for  virtue  that  he  looks  for  recompense  in  a  future  life, 
needs  no  proof  of  the  reality  of  such  a  life  ;  — he  does 
not  believe  in  it  —  he  feels  it.  And  so,  thou  dear  com- 
panion for  this  short  life  and  for  eternity,  we  shall 
strengthen  each  other  in  this  conviction,  not  by  argu- 
ments but  by  deeds." 

"  Leipzig,  1st  March,  1791. 

"  At  the  end  of  this  month  I  shall  be  free,  and  have 
determined  to  come  to  thee.  1  see  nothing  that  can 
prevent  me.  I  indeed  still  await  the  sanction  of  my 
parents  ;  but  I  have  been  for  a  long  time  so  well  assur- 
ed of  their  love  —  almost,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  it,  of 
their  deference  to  my  opinion,  that  I  need  not  anticipate 
any  obstacle  on  their  part. 

#  #  #  #  # 

And  now  dearest,  I  turn  to  thee,  passing  over  all 
things  unconnected  with  thee,  which  therefore  do  not 
interest  me.  Is  it  true,  or  is  it  but  a  sweet  dream, 
that  I  am  so  near  to  the  one  best  joy  of  my  life, 
—  the  possession  of  the  noblest  of  souls,  chosen 
and  destined  for  me  by  the  Creator  from  among  all 
other  souls  ?  —  that  my  happiness,  my  peace,  shall 
be  the  objeet  of  your  wishes,  your  cares,  your  prayers  ? 
Could  my  feelings  but  flow  to  thee,  warm  as  at  this 
moment  they  are  streaming  through  my  breast,  and 
threatening  to  burst  it  asunder  ! 

u  Accept  me  then,  dearest  maiden,  with  all  my 
faults.  How  glad  am  I  to  think  that  T  can  give  myself 
to  one  who  can  take  me  with  these  faults  ;  who  has  wis- 
dom and  strength  enough  to  love  me  with  them  all,  — 


52 


MEMOIR  OF  F1CHTE. 


to  help  me  to  destroy  them,  so  that  I  may  one  day 
appear  with  her,  purified  from  all  blemish,  before  Him 
who  created  us  for  each  other  !  —  Never  have  I  been 
more  sincerely  penetrated  by  this  feeling  of  my  weak- 
ness, than  since  I  received  thy  last  letter,  which  reminds 
me  of  the  poverty  of  all  that  I  have  said  to  thee  ; 
which  reminds  me  of  the  vacillating  state  of  mind  in 
which  I  have  written  to  thee.  O  what  a  man  I  have 
been  !  —  People  have  sometimes  attributed  to  me  firm- 
ness of  character,  and  I  have  been  vain  enough  to  ac- 
cept their  flattery  as  truth.  To  what  accident  am  I 
indebted  for  this  opinion,  —  I  who  have  always  allowed 
myself  to  be  guided  by  circumstances,  —  whose  soul 
has  taken  the  colors  of  the  events  that  surrounded  me  ? 
With  great  pretensions,  which  I  could  never  have  main- 
tained, I  left  Zurich.  My  hopes  were  all  wrecked. 
Out  of  despair,  more  than  from  taste,  I  threw  myself 
into  the  Kantean  philosophy,  and  found  a  peace  for 
which  indeed  I  have  to  thank  my  good  health  and  the 
free  flight  of  my  fancy  ;  and  even  deceived  myself  so 
far  as  to  believe  that  the  sublime  thoughts  which  I  im- 
printed upon  my  memory  were  natives  of  my  soul. 
Circumstances  led  me  to  another  employment  less  satis- 
factory to  the  heart  ;  and  the  change  in  my  mode  of 
life,  —  the  winter,  which  never  agrees  with  me,  —  an 
indisposition,  and  the  troubles  of  a  short  journey,  — 
these  things  could  disturb  the  deeply-rooted  peace  of 
the  philosopher,  and  bring  me  into  a  frightful  humor  ! 
Shall  I  always  be  thus  tossed  to  and  fro  like  a  wave  ? 
Take  thou  me,  then,  thou  brave  soul,  and  strengthen 
this  indecision. 


MEMOIR   OF  F1CHTE. 


53 


"  Yet  while  I  lament  my  inconstancy,  how  happy 
am  I  that  I  can  pour  out  these  complaints  to  a  heart 
which  knows  me  too  well  to  misunderstand  me  !  One 
of  my  feelings  I  can  acquit  of  all  fickleness  :  I  can  say 
it  boldly,  that  I  have  never  been  untrue  to  thee,  even 
in  thought  ;  and  it  is  a  touching  proof  of  thy  noble 
character,  that  amid  all  thy  tender  cares  for  me,  thou 
hast  never  been  anxious  about  this. 

"  The  day  of  my  departure  is  not  exactly  fixed,  and 
I  cannot  determine  it  till  I  am  about  to  set  out.  But 
it  will  be  one  of  the  first  days  of  April.  I  shall  write 
to  thee  of  it,  and  I  shall  also  write  to  thee  on  my 
journey." 

And  now  all  his  brightest  dreams  were  to  be  fulfilled  ; 
his  cup  was  brimming  with  anticipated  delight,  the 
draught  of  joy  was  almost  at  his  lips,  when  it  was  rudely 
dashed  from  his  grasp.  The  day  of  his  departure  was 
already  fixed,  when  the  bankruptcy  of  a  mercantile 
house  to  which  Rahn  had  entrusted  his  property,  threw 
the  affairs  of  the  latter  into  disorder,  and  even  threat- 
ened to  reduce  him  to  indigence  in  his  old  age.  Hap- 
pily a  part  of  his  property  was  ultimately  saved,  but,  in 
the  meantime  at  least,  all  plans  which  were  founded  on 
his  former  prosperity  were  at  an  end.  His  misfortunes 
brought  upon  him  a  lingering  sickness,  by  which  he  was 
brought  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  His  life  was  pre- 
served by  the  tender  and  unremitting  cares  of  his 
daughter.  In  those  dark  years,  when  scarcely  a  ray  of 
hope  broke  the  gloom  of  present  calamity,  her  conduct 
displayed  that  high-minded  devotion  which  bears  inevi- 
4* 


54 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


table  suffering  without  a  murmur,  and  almost  raises  the 
passive  above  the  active  virtues  of  our  nature. 

As  for  Fichte,  he  had  now  become  inured  to  disap- 
pointment. His  courage  soon  returned  to  him,  but  he 
was  filled  with  chagrin  at  having  no  power  either  to 
alleviate,  or  to  share,  the  distresses  of  one  dearer  to 
him  than  life  itself.  The  world  with  its  difficulties  and 
doubts  was  once  more  before  him,  and  once  more  his 
indomitable  spirit  rose  superior  to  them  all.  He  obtained 
an  appointment  as  tutor  in  the  house  of  a  Polish  noble- 
man at  Warsaw,  and  having  announced  his  departure  to 
Johanna  Rahn  in  a  letter  in  which  he  bids  her  be  of 
good  courage,  and  assures  her  earnestly  of  his  own 
faithfulness,  he  once  more  assumed  his  pilgrim  staff  and 
turned  his  back  upon  Leipzic. 

His  diary  written  during  this  pedestrian  journey  to 
Poland  evinces  a  clear  and  acute  faculty  of  observation, 
and  sketches  very  distinctly  the  peculiarities  of  the 
Saxon  and  Silesian  character.  One  passage  only,  and 
that  relative  to  a  different  subject,  is  here  quoted  :  — 

"  9th  May.  —  Arrived  at  Bichofswerda  in  good 
time  ;  drank  tea  at  the  inn,  and  sent  my  letter  to  Ram 
menau.  Soon  appeared  my  brother  Gotthelf,  the  kind 
soul,  whom  I  looked  for  the  previous  day  at  Pillnitz  ; 
and  immediately  after  him,  Gottlob.  My  father  had 
not  been  at  home,  but  he  came  soon  after  —  the  good, 
honest,  kind  father  !  His  look,  his  tone,  his  reasoning 
—  how  much  good  they  always  do  me  !  Take  away 
all  my  learning,  O  God,  and  make  me  such  a  good, 
true,  faithful  man  ! — how  much  would  I  gain  by  the 
exchange  !  " 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


55 


On  the  7th  of  June  he  arrived  at  Warsaw,  and  im- 
mediately waited  upon  his  employer,  the  Count  Von 

P  .    The  Count  was  a  good,  easy  man,  perfectly 

submissive  to  the  guidance  of  his  wife,  a  vain,  haughty, 
and  whimsical  woman.  Fichte's  pronunciation  of  the 
French  language  was  found  to  be  unsatisfactory,  and  his 
German  bluntness  of  demeanor  still  more  so.  He 
discovered  that  this  was  no  place  for  him,  where  the 
teacher  was  regarded  as  a  hanger-on  of  the  Countess, 
and  no  respect  was  paid  to  the  dignity  of  his  profession. 
He  resigned  his  office  without  having  entered  upon  its 
duties,  and  having  with  some  difficulty  obtained  from 
the  Countess  by  way  of  compensation,  a  sum  sufficient 
for  his  maintenance  for  the  succeeding  two  months,  he 
resolved  to  visit  Konigsberg,  instead  of  returning  direct- 
ly to  his  native  country,  in  order  that  he  might  have  an 
opportunity  of  cultivating  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
Kant,  his  great  master  in  Philosophy.  Having  preach- 
ed in  the  Evangelical  Church  at  Warsaw  before  his 
departure,  he  left  that  city  on  the  25th  of  June  for 
Konigsberg. 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  he  visited  Kant,  but  his 
first  impressions  of  the  Critical  Philosopher  do  not 
seem  to  have  been  very  favorable.  His  impetuous  en- 
thusiasm was  chilled  by  a  cold,  formal  reception,  and 
he  retired  deeply  disappointed.  Unwilling,  however, 
to  abandon  the  purpose  which  had  led  him  to  Konigs- 
berg, he  sought  for  some  means  of  obtaining  a  more 
free  and  earnest  interview,  but  for  some  time  without 
success.  At  last  he  determined  to  write  a  u  Kritik 
aller  Offenbarung  "  (Critique  of  all  Revelation),  which 


56 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


should  serve  as  an  introduction.  He  began  on  the 
13th  of  July,  and  sent  the  finished  work  to  Kant  on 
the  18th  of  August.  He  went  on  the  23d  to  hear  the 
opinion  of  the  philosopher  upon  it,  and  was  kindly 
received.  He  heard  a  very  favorable  judgment  passed 
upon  his  book,  but  did  not  attain  his  principal  object  — 
the  establishment  of  a  scientific  confidence.  For  the 
solution  of  his  philosophical  doubts  he  was  referred  to 
the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  or  to  some  of  the  philo- 
sopher's friends. 

On  revising  his  "  Critique  of  all  Revelation,"  he 
found  that  it  did  not  thoroughly  express  his  profoundest 
thoughts  on  the  subject,  and  he  therefore  began  to 
remodel  and  re-write  it.  But  here  again  he  was  over- 
taken by  want.  Counting  over  his  meagre  store  of 
money,  he  found  that  he  had  only  sufficient  for  another 
fortnight.  Alone  and  in  a  strange  country,  he  knew  not 
what  to  resolve  upon.  After  having  in  vain  endeavored 
to  get  some  employment  through  the  friends  to  whom 
he  had  been  introduced  by  Kant,  he  determined  to 
reveal  to  him  the  situation  in  which  he  was  placed,  and 
request  his  assistance  to  enable  him  to  return  to  his  own 
land.  His  letter  to  Kant  on  this  subject  is  so  striking- 
ly characteristic  of  its  writer,  and  describes  so  truly  his 
position  at  the  time,  that  it  is  here  given  at  length. 

2To  Bant. 

u  You  will  pardon  me,  sir,  if  on  the  present  occasion 
I  address  you  in  writing  rather  than  in  speech. 

"  You  have  already  favored  me  with  kind  recom- 
mendations which  I  had  not  ventured  to  ask  from  you, 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


57 


—  a  generosity  which  infinitely  increases  my  gratitude, 
and  gives  me  courage  to  disclose  myself  entirely  to  you, 
which  otherwise  I  could  not  have  ventured  to  do  with- 
out your  direct  permission,  —  a  necessity  which  he 
who  wrould  not  willingly  reveal  himself  to  every  one, 
feels  doubly  towards  a  truly  good  character. 

"In  the  first  place,  allow  me  to  assure  you,  sir,  that 
my  resolution  to  proceed  from  Warsaw  to  Konigsberg, 
instead  of  returning  to  Saxony,  was  indeed  so  far  an 
interested  resolution,  that  it  gave  me  an  opportunity  of 
expressing  my  feelings  towards  the  man  to  whom  I  owe 
all  my  convictions,  principles,  character,  and  even  the 
very  effort  to  possess  such,  —  of  profiting,  so  far  as 
possible  in  a  short  time,  by  your  society,  and,  if  allow- 
ed, of  recommending  myself  to  your  favorable  notice 
in  my  after-life;  —  but  I  never  could  anticipate  my 
present  need  of  your  kindness,  partly  because  I  con- 
sidered Konigsberg  to  be  fertile  in  resources,  —  much 
more  so,  for  example,  than  Leipzic,  — and  partly  be- 
cause I  believed  that,  in  the  worst  case,  I  should  be 
able  to  find  employment  in  Livonia,  through  a  friend 
who  occupies  a  creditable  situation  at  Riga.  I  consider 
this  assurance  as  due  —  partly  to  myself,  that  the  feel- 
ings which  flow  purely  from  my  heart  may  not  incur 
the  suspicion  of  mean  selfishness  —  partly  to  you,  be- 
cause the  free  open  gratitude  of  one,  whom  you  have 
instructed  and  improved,  cannot  be  indifferent  to  you. 

"  I  have  followed  the  profession  of  a  private  tutor  for 
five  years,  and  during  this  time  have  felt  so  keenly  its 
disagreeable  nature,  —  to  be  compelled  to  look  upon 
imperfections  which  must  ultimately  entail  the  worst 


58 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


consequences,  and  yet  be  hindered  in  the  endeavor  to 
establish  good  habits  in  their  stead,  —  that  I  had  given 
it  up  altogether  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and,  as  I  thought, 
for  ever.  I  was  induced  again  to  undertake  this  occu- 
pation in  Warsaw,  without  due  consideration,  by  the  ill- 
founded  hope  that  I  should  find  this  attempt  more  fortu- 
nate, and  perhaps  imperceptibly  by  a  view  to  pecuniary 
advantage  —  a  resolution  the  vanity  of  which  has  given 
rise  to  my  present  embarrassments.  I  now,  on  the  con- 
trary, feel  every  day  more  strongly  the  necessity  of  going 
over  again,  before  the  years  of  youth  have  altogether 
passed  away,  all  those  things  which  the  too  early  praise  of 
well-meaning  but  unwise  teachers, — an  academic  course 
almost  completed  before  my  entrance  on  the  proper  age 
of  youth,  —  and  since  that  time,  my  constant  depend- 
ence on  circumstances,  —  have  caused  me  to  neglect  ; 
and  resigning  all  the  ambitious  views  which  have  im- 
peded my  progress,  to  train  myself  to  all  of  which  I 
am  capable,  and  leave  the  rest  to  Providence.  This 
object  I  cannot  attain  anywhere  more  surely  than  in  my 
fatherland.  I  have  parents,  who  cannot,  indeed,  relieve 
my  necessities,  but  with  whom  I  can  live  at  less  ex- 
pense than  elsewhere.  I  can  there  occupy  myself  with 
literary  pursuits  —  my  true  means  of  culture,  to  which 
I  must  devote  myself,  and  for  which  I  have  too  much 
respect  to  print  anything  of  the  truth  of  which  I  am  not 
perfectly  certain.  By  a  residence  in  my  native  pro- 
vince, too,  I  could  most  easily  obtain,  as  a  village  pas- 
tor, the  perfect  literary  quiet  which  I  desire  until  my 
faculties  are  matured.  My  best  course  thus  seems  to  be 
to  return  home  ;  — but  I  am  deprived  of  the  means  :  I 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


59 


have  only  two  ducats,  and  even  these  are  not  my  own, 
for  I  have  yet  to  pay  for  my  lodgings.  There  appears, 
then,  to  be  no  rescue  for  me  from  this  situation,  unless 
T  can  find  some  one  who,  although  unknown  to  me,  yet 
in  reliance  upon  my  honor,  will  advance  me  the  neces- 
sary sum  for  the  expenses  of  my  journey,  until  the  time 
when  I  can  calculate  with  certainty  on  being  able  to 
make  repayment.  I  know  no  one  to  whom  I  could 
offer  this  security  without  fear  of  being  laughed  at  to 
my  face,  except  you,  excellent  man. 

44  It  is  my  maxim  never  to  ask  anything  from  another, 
without  having  first  of  all  examined  whether  I  myself, 
were  the  circumstances  inverted,  would  do  the  same 
thing  for  some  one  else.  In  the  present  case  I  have 
found  that,  supposing  I  had  it  in  my  power,  I  would  do 
this  for  any  person  of  whom  I  believed  that  he  was  ani- 
mated by  the  principles  by  which  I  know  that  I  myself 
am  now  governed. 

"  I  am  so  convinced  of  a  certain  sacrifice  of  honor 
in  thus  placing  it  in  pledge,  that  the  very  necessity  of 
giving  you  this  assurance  seems  to  deprive  me  of  a  part 
of  it  myself;  and  the  deep  shame  which  thus  falls  upon 
me  is  the  reason  why  I  cannot  make  an  application  of 
this  kind  verbally,  for  I  must  have  no  witnesses  of  that 
shame.  My  honor  seems  to  me  really  doubtful  until  the 
engagement  is  fulfilled,  because  it  is  always  possible  for 
the  other  party  to  suppose  that  I  may  never  fulfil  it. 
Thus  I  know,  that  if  you,  sir,  should  consent  to  my 
request,  I  would  think  of  you  with  heartfelt  respect  and 
gratitude  indeed,  but  yet  with  a  kind  of  shame  ;  and 
that  only  after  I  had  redeemed  my  word,  would  it  be 


60 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


possible  for  me  to  call  to  mind  with  perfect  satisfaction 
an  acquaintance  with  which  I  hope  to  be  honored  during 
life.  I  know  that  these  feelings  arise  from  tempera- 
ment, not  from  principle,  and  are  perhaps  reprehensi- 
ble ;  but  I  cannot  eradicate  them,  until  principle  has 
acquired  sufficient  strength  to  take  their  place,  and  so 
render  them  superfluous.  So  far,  however,  I  can  rely 
upon  my  principles,  that,  were  I  capable  of  forfeiting 
my  word  pledged  to  you,  I  should  despise  myself  for 
ever  afterwards,  and  could  never  again  venture  to  cast 
a  glance  into  my  own  soul  ;  principles  which  constantly 
reminded  me  of  you,  and  of  my  dishonor,  must  needs 
be  cast  aside  altogether,  in  order  to  free  me  from  the 
most  painful  self-reproach. 

"  If  I  were  well  assured  of  the  existence  of  such  a 
mode  of  thinking  as  this  in  a  man,  I  would  do  that  for 
him  with  confidence  which  I  now  ask  from  you.  How, 
and  by  what  means  I  could  assure  myself,  were  I  in 
your  place,  of  the  existence  of  such  principles,  is  like- 
wise clear  to  me. 

"  If  it  be  permitted  me  to  compare  very  great  things 
with  very  small,  I  argue  from  your  writings,  most 
honored  sir,  a  character  in  their  author  above  the  or- 
dinary mass  of  men,  and,  before  I  knew  anything  at  all 
of  your  mode  of  acting  in  common  life,  I  would  have 
ventured  to  describe  it  as  I  now  know  it  to  be.  For 
myself,  I  have  only  laid  open  before  you  a  small  part  of 
my  nature,  at  a  time,  however,  when  the  idea  never  oc- 
curred to  me  of  making  such  a  use  of  your  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  my  character  is  not  sufficiently  formed  to 
express  itself  fully  ;  —  but  to  compensate  for  this,  you 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


61 


are  without  comparison  a  better  judge  of  man  than  I 
am,  and  perhaps  may  have  perceived,  even  from  what 
you  have  seen  of  me,  whether  or  not  a  love  of  truth 
and  honor  belongs  to  my  character. 

u  Lastly  —  and  I  add  this  with  shame  — if  I  should 
be  found  capable  of  forfeiting  my  pledge,  my  worldly 
reputation  is  in  your  hands.  It  is  my  intention  to 
become  an  author  in  my  own  name,  and  if  I  leave 
Konigsberg,  I  wish  to  request  from  you  introductions 
to  some  literary  men  of  your  acquaintance.  To  these, 
whose  good  opinion  I  would  then  owe  to  you,  it  would 
be  your  duty  to  communicate  my  disgrace  ;  as  it  would 
generally  be  a  duty,  I  think,  to  warn  the  world  against 
a  person  of  such  incorrigible  character  as  he  must  needs 
be,  who  could  approach  a  man  whose  atmosphere  is 
untainted  by  falsehood,  and,  by  assuming  the  outward 
mien  of  honesty,  deceive  his  acuteness,  and  so  laugh  to 
scorn  all  virtue  and  honor. 

"  These  were  the  considerations,  sir,  which  induced 
me  to  write  this  letter.  I  am  very  indifferent  about 
that  which  does  not  lie  within  my  power,  more  indeed 
through  temperament  and  personal  experience,  than  on 
principle.  It  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  been  in 
difficulties  out  of  which  I  could  see  no  way  ;  but  it 
would  be  the  first  time  that  I  remained  in  them,  if  I 
did  so  now.  Curiosity  as  to  what  is  to  come  of  it,  is 
generally  all  that  I  feel  in  such  emergencies.  I  merely 
adopt  the  means  which  appear  the  best  to  my  mind, 
and  then  calmly  await  the  consequence.  And  I  can 
do  this  the  more  easily  in  the  present  case,  as  I  place 
it  in  the  hands  of  a  good  and  wise  man.  But  in  an- 
5 


62 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


other  point  of  view,  I  send  off  this  letter  with  unwonted 
anxiety.  Whatever  may  be  your  determination,  I  shall 
lose  something  of  comfort  and  satisfaction  in  my  relation 
towards  you.  If  it  be  in  the  affirmative,  I  can  indeed 
again  acquire  what  I  have  lost  ;  —  if  in  the  negative, 
never. 

#  #  #  #  # 

"  For  the  tone  which  predominates  in  this  letter,  I 
cannot,  sir,  ask  your  pardon.  It  is  one  of  the  dis- 
tinctions of  sages,  that  he  who  speaks  to  them,  speaks 
as  a  man  to  men.  As  soon  as  I  can  venture  to  hope 
that  I  do  not  disturb  you,  I  shall  wait  upon  you,  to 
learn  your  resolution  ;  and  I  am,  with  heartfelt  reve- 
rence and  admiration,"  &c,  &c,  &c. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  circumstances  short  of 
absolute  inability,  which  could  induce  a  man  of  refined 
sentiments,  and  especially  a  scholar  and  a  philosopher, 
to  refuse  the  request  contained  in  this  singular  letter. 
We  are  not  informed  of  the  cause  of  Kant's  refusal, 
and  can  therefore  only  hope  that  it  arose  from  no  mo- 
tive less  honorable  than  that  which  animated  his  noble- 
minded  suitor.  But  the  request  was  refused,  and 
Fichte  once  more  reduced  to  extremity.  He  endeav- 
ored to  dispose  of  the  manuscript  of  his  "  Kritik  aller 
Offenbarung  ;  " — but  Hartung,  the  bookseller  to  whom 
Kant  had  recommended  him  to  apply,  was  from  home, 
and  he  offered  it  in  vain  to  any  other.  The  very 
heroism  of  his  life  seemed  to  be  the  source  of  his  ever- 
recurring  difficulties  ; — and,  truly,  he  who  has  resolved 
to  lead  a  life  of  high  purpose  and  endeavor,  must  be 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


63 


content  to  relinquish  the  advantages  which  are  the 
common  reward  of  plodding  worldliness  or  successful 
knavery.  He  does  relinquish  them  without  a  murmur, 
or  rather  he  never  seeks  them  ;  —  his  thoughts  aspire 
to  a  loftier  recompense,  and  that  he  will  surely  attain. 

But  light  once  more  dawned  on  these  dark  and  hope- 
less prospects  ;  and  that  from  a  quarter  whence  it  was 
least  of  all  expected.  When  the  little  money  which  he 
had  remaining  was  almost  entirely  exhausted,  he  re- 
ceived an  invitation,  through  the  Court-preacher  Schulz, 
to  a  tutorship  in  the  family  of  the  Count  of  Krokow, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Dantzig.  Although,  as  we 
have  seen,  his  views  were  now  directed  to  a  life  of 
literary  exertion,  yet  necessity  compelled  him  to  accept 
this  proposal  ;  and  he  entered  on  his  new  employment, 
experiencing  the  most  friendly  reception  and  the  kind- 
est attentions.  The  amiable  character  and  excellent 
abilities  of  the  Countess  rendered  his  residence  in  her 
family  not  only  happy,  but  interesting  and  instructive  ; — 
his  letters  at  this  period  are  full  of  her  praises.  This 
fortunate  appointment  was  but  the  beginning  of  many 
years  of  uninterrupted  prosperity  which  now  awaited 
him.  Fortune  seemed  to  have  tired  of  her  relentless 
persecutions,  and  now  resolved  to  shine  graciously  upon 
his  path. 

Through  the  agency  of  his  friends  at  Konigsberg,  he 
now  made  arrangements  with  Hartung  for  the  publica- 
tion of  his  "  Kritik  aller  Offenbarung."  When  the 
book  was  submitted  to  the  censorship  of  the  Dean  of 
the  Theological  Faculty  at  Halle,  where  it  was  to  be 


64 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


printed,  he  refused  his  sanction  on  account  of  the  prin- 
ciple contained  in  it,  —  That  no  proof  of  the  divinity 
of  a  revelation  is  to  be  derived  from  an  appeal  to 
miracles  occurring  in  connection  with  it,  but  that  the 
question  of  its  authenticity  can  be  decided  only  by  an 
examination  of  the  contents  of  the  supposed  revelation. 
Fichte  urged  that  his  book  was  a  philosophical,  not 
a  theological  essay,  and  therefore  did  not  properly 
come  under  the  cognizance  of  the  Theological  Faculty  ; 
—  but  this  plea  was  urged  in  vain.  His  friends  advised 
him  to  withdraw  the  obnoxious  passages  ;  even  Schulz, 
who  united  theological  orthodoxy  with  his  ardent  Kant- 
ism,  advised  him  to  do  so.  But  on  this  point  Fichte 
was  inflexible  ;  he  determined  that  the  book  should  be 
printed  entire,  or  not  printed  at  all.  He  resolved, 
however,  to  consult  Kant  on  the  subject,  as  the  highest 
authority  to  whom  he  could  appeal.  As  this  question 
has  now  begun  to  excite  some  interest  in  the  philo- 
sophico-theological  world  of  England  and  America,  it 
is  deemed  advisable  to  insert  here  the  gist  of  this  cor- 
respondence, embodying  as  it  does  the  views  of  two 
most  eminent  men,  who,  both  by  their  mental  endow- 
ments and  by  their  position  in  life,  were  better  qualified 
than  most  other  men  to  give  an  impartial  judgment  on 
the  matter  at  issue. 

jHc&te  to  2&ant. 

"  22d  January,  1792. 

"  A  friend  whom  I  respect  has  written  to  me  a  kind 
and  touching  letter  upon  this  subject,  in  which  he  re- 
quests that,  in  the  event  of  a  possible  revision  of  the 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


65 


work  during  the  delay  which  has  occurred  in  printing, 
I  should  endeavor  to  set  two  points,  upon  which  we 
are  at  issue,  in  another  light.  I  have  said,  that  faith  in 
a  given  revelation  cannot  reasonably  be  founded  upon 
belief  in  miracles,  because  no  miracle  is  demonstrable 
as  such  ;  but  I  have  added  in  a  note,  that  it  may  be 
allowable  to  employ  the  idea  of  miracles  having  oc- 
curred in  connection  with  a  revelation,  in  order  to 
direct  the  attention  of  those,  who  need  the  aid  of  out 
ward  and  sensible  manifestations,  to  the  other  sufficient 
grounds  upon  which  the  revelation  may  be  received  as 
divine  ;  —  the  only  modification  of  the  former  principle 
which  I  can  admit.  I  have  said,  further,  that  a  reve- 
lation cannot  extend  the  materials  either  of  our  dog- 
matic or  our  moral  knowledge  ;  but  I  admit,  that  upon 
transcendental  objects,  in  the  fact  of  whose  existence 
we  believe,  but  can  know  nothing  whatever  of  the 
mode  of  that  existence,  it  may  furnish  us  with  some- 
thing in  the  room  of  experience — something  which,  for 
those  who  so  conceive  of  such  matters,  shall  possess  a 
subjective  truth,  —  which,  however,  is  not  to  be  re- 
ceived as  a  substantial  addition  to,  but  only  as  an 
embodied  and  formal  manifestation  of,  those  spiritual 
things  possessed  by  us  a  priori.  Notwithstanding  con- 
tinued reflection  upon  these  points,  I  have  hitherto 
found  no  reason  which  can  justify  me  in  altering  my 
conclusions.  May  I  venture  to  ask  you,  sir,  as  the 
most  competent  judge,  to  tell  me  in  two  words,  whether 
any  other  results  upon  these  points  are  to  be  sought  for, 
and  if  so,  in  what  direction  ;  —  or  if  these  are  the  only 
grounds  on  which  a  critique  of  the  Revelation-idea  can 
5* 


66 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


safely  proceed  ?  If  you  will  favor  me  with  these  two 
words  of  reply,  I  shall  make  no  use  of  them  incon- 
sistent with  the  deep  respect  I  entertain  for  you.  As 
to  my  friend's  letter,  I  have  already  said  in  answer,  that 
I  do  not  cease  to  give  my  attention  to  the  subject,  and 
shall  always  be  ready  to  retract  what  I  am  convinced 
is  erroneous. 

u  As  to  the  prohibition  of  the  censor,  after  the 
clearly-declared  object  of  the  essay,  and  the  tone  which 
predominates  throughout  its  pages,  I  can  only  wonder 
at  it.  I  cannot  understand  where  the  Theological 
Faculty  acquired  the  right  to  apply  their  censorship  to 
such  a  mode  of  treating  such  a  subject." 

Want's  £Uj)li>. 

"  2d  February,  1792. 

"  You  desire  to  be  informed  by  me  whether  any  rem- 
edy can  be  found  against  the  strict  censorship  under 
which  your  book  has  fallen,  without  entirely  laying  it 
aside.  I  answer,  none;  —  so  far  as,  without  having 
read  the  book  thoroughly,  I  can  determine  from  what 
your  letter  announces  as  its  leading  principle,  namely, 
—  c  that  faith  in  a  given  revelation  cannot  reasonably 
be  founded  on  a  belief  in  miracles.' 

"  For  it  inevitably  follows  from  this,  that  a  religion 
can  contain  only  such  articles  of  faith  as  likewise  be- 
long to  the  province  of  pure  reason.  This  principle 
is  in  my  opinion  quite  unobjectionable,  and  neither 
abolishes  the  subjective  necessity  of  a  revelation,  nor 
of  miracle  (for  it  may  be  assumed,  that  whether  or  not 
it  might  have  been  possible  for  reason,  unaided  by  rev- 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


67 


elation,  to  have  discovered  those  articles,  which,  now 
when  they  are  actually  before  us,  may  indeed  be  com- 
prehended by  reason  ; — yet  it  may  have  been  necessary 
to  introduce  them  by  miracles,  —  which,  however,  now 
when  religion  can  support  itself  and  its  articles  of 
faith,  need  not  longer  be  relied  upon  as  the  foundation 
of  belief)  : — but  according  to  the  maxims  which  seem 
to  be  adopted  by  the  censor,  this  principle  will  not 
carry  you  through.  For,  according  to  these,  certain 
writings  must  be  received  into  the  profession  of  faith 
according  to  their  letter,  since  it  is  difficult  for  human 
understanding  to  comprehend  them,  and  much  more 
for  human  reason  to  conceive  of  them  as  true  ;  and 
hence  they  really  need  the  continued  support  of  mi- 
racle, and  thus  only  can  become  articles  of  reasonable 
belief.  The  view  which  represents  revelation  as  merely 
a  sensible  manifestation  of  these  principles  in  accommo- 
dation to  human  weakness,  and  hence  as  possessed  of 
subjective  truth  only,  is  not  sufficient  for  the  censor, 
for  his  views  demand  the  recognition  of  its  objective 
truth  according  to  the  letter. 

"  One  way,  however,  remains  open,  to  bring  your 
book  into  harmony  with  the  ideas  of  the  censor:  i.  e., 
if  you  can  make  him  comprehend  and  approve  the 
distinction  between  a  dogmatic  belief  raised  above  all 
doubt,  and  a  mere  moral  admission,  resting  on  the 
insufficiency  of  reason  to  satisfy  its  own  wants  ;  for 
then  the  faith  which  good  moral  sentiment  reposes  upon 
miracle  may  probably  thus  express  itself :  *  Lord,  I 
believe  '  —  (that  is,  I  receive  it  willingly,  although 
cannot  prove  it  sufficiently)  —  4  help  thou  mine  unbe- 


68 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


lief!  ' —  that  is,  '  I  have  a  moral  faith  in  respect  of  all 
that  I  can  draw  from  the  miraculous  narrative  for  the 
purposes  of  inward  improvement,  and  I  desire  to  pos- 
sess an  historical  belief  in  so  far  as  that  can  contribute 
to  the  same  end.  My  unintentional  non-belief  is  not 
confirmed  unbelief.'  But  you  will  not  easily  make 
this  distinction  acceptable  to  a  censor  who,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  makes  historical  belief  an  unconditional  religious 
duty. 

"  With  these  hastily,  but  not  inconsiderately  thrown 
out  ideas,  you  may  do  whatever  seems  good  to  you 
(provided  you  are  yourself  convinced  of  their  truth), 
without  making  any  direct  or  indirect  allusion  to  him 
who  communicates  them." 

JFfcijte  to  mant. 

44 17th  February,  1792. 

u  Your  kind  letter  has  given  me  much  gratification, 
as  well  on  account  of  the  goodness  which  so  soon  ful- 
filled my  request,  as  on  account  of  the  matter  it  con- 
tains :  upon  that  subject  I  now  feel  all  the  peace  of 
mind  which,  next  to  one's  own  conviction,  the  authority 
of  a  man  who  is  honored  above  all  other  men  can  give. 

44  If  I  have  rightly  conceived  your  meaning,  1  have 
actually  pursued  in  my  work  the  middle  course  which 
you  point  out — of  distinguishing  between  an  affirmative 
belief,  and  a  faith  founded  on  moral  considerations.  I 
have  endeavored  carefully  to  distinguish  between  that 
which,  according  to  my  principle,  is  the  only  possible 
and  reasonable  kind  of  faith  in  the  divinity  of  a  given 
revelation  (that  faith,  namely,  which  has  for  its  object 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


69 


only  a  certain  form  of  the  truths  of  religion)  —  and 
the  belief  which  accepts  these  truths  in  themselves  as 
postulates  of  pure  reason.  This  faith  is  only  a  free 
acceptance  of  the  divine  origin  of  a  particular  form  of 
religious  truth  grounded  on  experience  of  the  efficacy 
of  such  a  form  as  a  means  of  moral  perfection  ;  — 
such  an  acceptance,  indeed,  as  no  one  can  prove 
either  to  himself  or  others,  but  which,  on  the  other 
hand,  cannot  be  refuted  ;  an  acceptance  which  is  merely 
subjective,  and,  unlike  the  faith  of  pure  reason,  is  not 
universally  binding,  since  it  is  founded  on  individual 
experience  alone.  I  believe  that  I  have  placed  this 
distinction  in  a  tolerably  clear  light,  and  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  set  forth  fully  the  practical  consequences  of 
these  principles  :  namely,  that  while  they  save  us  the 
labor  of  forcing  our  own  subjective  convictions  upon 
others,  they  secure  to  every  one  the  undisturbed  pos- 
session of  everything  in  religion  which  he  can  apply  to 
his  own  improvement,  and  thus  silence  the  opponents 
of  positive  religion,  not  less  than  its  dogmatical  de- 
fenders —  principles  for  which  I  do  not  deserve  the 
anger  of  the  truth-loving  theologian.  But  yet  it  has  so 
fallen  out ;  and  I  am  now  determined  to  leave  the  book 
as  it  is,  and  to  allow  the  publisher  to  deal  with  the 
matter  as  he  chooses." 

The  difficulty  which  gave  rise  to  the  preceding  let- 
ters was  happily  got  rid  of  by  a  change  in  the  censor- 
ship. The  new  dean,  Dr.  Knapp,  did  not  partake  in 
the  scruples  of  his  predecessor  ;  he  gave  his  consent 
to  the  publication,  and  the  work  appeared  at  Easter, 


70 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


1792.  At  first,  it  was  universally  ascribed  to  Kant. 
The  journals  devoted  to  the  Critical  Philosophy  teemed 
with  laudatory  notices,  until  at  length  Kant  found  it 
necessary  publicly  to  disclaim  the  paternity  of  the  book 
by  disclosing  its  real  author. 

The  "  Kritik  aller  Offenbarung  "  is  an  attempt  to 
determine  the  natural  and  necessary  conditions,  under 
which  alone  a  revelation  from  a  superior  intelligence 
to  man  is  possible,  and  consequently  to  lay  down  the 
criteria  by  which  anything  that  claims  the  character  of 
such  a  revelation  is  to  be  tested.  The  design,  as  well 
as  the  execution,  of  the  work  is  strikingly  characteristic 
of  its  author  ;  for,  although  the  form  of  the  Kantean 
philosophy  is  much  more  distinctly  impressed  upon  this, 
his  first  literary  production,  than  upon  his  subsequent 
writings,  yet  it  does  not,  it  cannot  conceal  those  bril- 
liant qualities  to  which  he  owed  his  future  fame,  That 
profound  and  searching  intellect,  which,  in  the  province 
of  pure  metaphysics,  casts  aside  as  fallacious  and  de- 
ceptive those  solid-seeming  principles  on  which  ordi- 
nary men  are  content  to  take  their  stand,  and  clearing 
its  way  to  the  most  hidden  depths  of  thought,  sought 
there  a  firm  foundation  on  which  to  build  a  structure  of 
human  knowledge,  whose  summit  should  tower  as  high 
above  common  faith  as  its  base  was  sunk  deep  below 
common  observation,  —  does  here,  when  applied  to  a 
question  of  practical  judgment,  exhibit  the  same  clear- 
ness of  vision,  strength  of  thought,  and  subtilty  of 
discrimination.  In  the  conduct  of  this  inquiry,  Fichte 
manifests  the  same  single  eye  to  truth,  and  reverent 
devotion  to  her  when  found,  which  characterize  all  his 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


7L 


writings  and  his  life.  His  book  has  nothing  in  common 
with  those  superficial  attacks  upon  revelation,  or  equally 
superficial  defences  of  it,  which  are  so  rife  in  our  days, 
and  which  afford  so  much  scope  for  petty  personal  ani- 
mosities. (The  mathematician,  while  constructing  his 
theorem,  does  not  pause  to  inquire  who  may  be  inter- 
ested in  its  future  applications  ;  nor  does  the  philosopher, 
while  calmly  settling  the  conditions  and  principles  of 
knowledge,  concern  himself  about  what  opinions  may 
ultimately  be  found  incompatible  with  them  :j — these 
may  take  care  of  themselves.  Far  above  the  dark 
vortex  of  theological  strife  in  which  punier  intellects 
chafe  and  vex  themselves  in  vain,  Fichte  struggles  for- 
ward to  the  sunshine  of  pure  thought,  which  sectarian- 
ism cannot  see,  because  its  weakened  vision  is  already 
filled  with  a  borrowed  and  imperfect  light.  "  Form 
and  style,"  he  says  in  his  preface,  "  are  my  affair  ; 
the  censure  or  contempt  which  these  may  incur  affects 
me  alone  ;  —  and  that  is  of  little  moment.  The  result 
is  the  affair  of  truth,  and  that  is  of  moment.  That 
must  be  subjected  to  a  strict,  but  careful  and  impartial 
examination.  I,  at  least,  have  acted  impartially.  I  may 
have  erred,  and  it  would  be  astonishing  if  I  had  not. 
What  measure  of  correction  I  may  deserve,  let  the  pub- 
lic decide.  Every  judgment,  however  expressed,  I  shall 
thankfully  acknowledge ;  every  objection  which  seems 
incompatible  with  the  cause  of  truth,  I  shall  meet  as  well 
as  I  can.  To  truth  I  solemnly  devote  myself,  at  my  first 
entrance  into  public  life.  Without  respect  of  party  or  of 
reputation,  I  shall  always  acknoivledge  that  to  be  truth 
which  I  recognize  as  such  ;  come  whence  it  may  ;  and 


72 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


never  acknowledge  that  which  I  do  not  believe.  The 
public  will  pardon  me  for  having  thus  spoken  of  myself, 
on  this  first  and  only  occasion.  It  may  be  of  little  im- 
portance to  the  world  to  receive  this  assurance,  but  it  is 
of  importance  to  me  to  call  upon  it  to  bear  witness  to  this 
my  solemn  vow."  Never  was  vow  more  nobly  fulfilled  ! 

Early  in  1973,  Fichte  left  Dantzig  for  Zurich,  to 
accomplish  the  wish  dearest  to  his  heart.  The  follow- 
ing extracts  are  from  a  letter  written  shortly  before  his 
departure  :  — 

"  Dantzig,  5th  March,  1793. 

"  In  June,  or  at  the  latest  July,  I  shall  be  with 
thee :  but  I  should  wish  to  enter  the  walls  of  Zurich 
as  thy  husband — Is  that  possible  ?  Thy  kind  heart  will 
give  no  hindrance  to  my  wishes  ;  but  1  do  not  know 
the  circumstances.   But  I  hope,  and  this  hope  comforts 

me  much.  God  !  what  happiness  dost  thou  prepare 

for  me,  the  unworthy  !  1  have  never  felt  so  deeply 

convinced  that  my  existence  is  not  to  be  in  vain  for  the 
world,  as  when  I  read  thy  letter.  What  I  receive  in 
thee,  I  have  not  deserved  ;  it  can  therefore  be  only  a 
means  of  strengthening  me  for  the  labor  and  toil  which 
yet  await  me.  Let  thy  life  but  flow  smoothly  on,  — 
thou  sweet,  dear  one  ! 

"  Thou  wilt  fashion  thyself  by  me  !  What  I  could 
perhaps  give  thee,  thou  dost  not  need  ;  what  thou  canst 
bestow  on  me,  I  need  much.  Do  thou,  good,  kind 
one,  shed  a  lasting  peace  upon  this  tempestuous  heart ; 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


73 


pour  gentle  and  winning  mildness  over  my  fiery  zeal  for 
the  ennobling  of  my  fellow  men.  By  thee  will  I  fashion 
myself,  till  I  can  go  forth  again  more  usefully. 

"  I  have  great,  glowing  prospects.  |  My  ambition 
(pride  rather)  thou  canst  understand.  It  is  to  purchase 
my  place  in  the  human  race  with  deeds,  to  bind  up  with 
my  existence  eternal  consequences  for  humanity  and 
the  whole  spiritual  world  ;  no  one  need  know  that  /  do 
it,  if  it  be  only  done.^  What  I  shall  be  in  the  civil 
world,  I  know  not.  If  instead  of  immediate  activity  I 
be  destined  to  speech,  my  desire  has  already  anticipated 
thy  wish,  that  it  should  be  rather  from  a  pulpit  than 
from  a  chair.  There  is  at  present  no  want  of  pros- 
pects of  that  kind.  Even  from  Saxony  I  receive  most 
profitable  invitations.  I  am  about  to  go  to  Lubeck  and 
Hamburg.  In  Dantzig  they  are  unwilling  to  let  me  go. 
All  that  for  the  future  !  That  I  am  not  idle,  I  have 
shown  by  refusing,  within  this  half  year,  many  invita- 
tions which  would  have  been  very  alluring  to  idlers. 
For  the  present  I  will  be  nothing  but  Fichte. 

44 1  may  perhaps  desire  an  office  in  a  few  years.  I 
hope  it  will  not  be  wanting.  Till  then  I  can  get  what  I 
require  by  my  pen  :  at  least,  it  has  never  failed  me  yet, 
in  my  many  wanderings  and  sacrifices." 

Fichte  arrived  in  Zurich  on  the  16th  day  of  June, 
1793,  after  having  once  more  visited  his  parents,  and 
received  their  cordial  approbation  of  his  future  plans. 
In  consequence,  however,  of  some  delays  arising  out 
of  the  laws  of  that  state  affecting  foreigners,  it  was  not 
until  the  22d  October  that  his  marriage  with  Johanna 
6 


74 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


Rahn  took  place.  After  a  short  tour  in  Switzerland, 
in  the  course  of  which  his  already  wide-spread  fame 
brought  him  into  contact  with  several  distinguished  men, 
—  Baggesen,  Pestalozzi,  &c, — he  took  up  his  resi- 
dence in  the  house  of  his  father-in-law.  Here  he  en- 
joyed for  several  months  a  life  of  undisturbed  repose, 
in  the  society  of  her  whose  love  had  been  his  stay  in 
times  of  adversity  and  doubt,  and  now  gave  to  pros- 
perity a  keener  relish  and  a  holier  aim. 

But  while  happiness  and  security  dwelt  in  the  peace- 
ful Swiss  canton,  the  rest  of  Europe  was  torn  asunder 
by  that  fearful  convulsion  which  made  the  close  of  last 
century  the  most  remarkable  period  in  the  history  of 
the  world.  Principles  which  had  once  bound  men  to- 
gether in  bonds  of  truth  and  fealty  had  become  false 
and  hollow  mockeries  ;  and  that  evil  time  had  arrived 
in  which  those  who  were  nominally  the  leaders  and 
rulers  of  the  people  had  ceased  to  command  their  reve- 
rence and  attachment  ;  nay,  by  countless  oppressions 
and  follies,  had  become  the  objects  of  their  bitter  hatred 
and  contempt.  And  now  one  nation  speaks  forth  the 
word  which  all  are  struggling  to  utter,  and  soon  every 
eye  is  turned  upon  France,  —  the  theatre  on  which  the 
new  act  in  the  drama  of  human  history  is  to  be  acted  ; 
where  freedom  and  right  are  once  more  to  become  re- 
alities ;  where  man,  no  longer  a  mere  appendage  to  the 
soil,  is  to  start  forth  on  a  new  career  of  activity  and 
honor,  and  show  the  world  the  spectacle  of  an  ennobled 
and  regenerated  race.  The  enslaved  of  all  nations 
rouse  themselves  at  the  shout  of  deliverance  ;  the  patri- 
ot's heart  throbs  higher  at  the  cry  —  the  poet  dreams  of 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


75 


a  new  golden  age  —  the  philosopher  looks  with  eager 
eye  for  the  solution  of  the  mighty  problem  of  human 
destiny.  All,  alas!  are  doomed  to  disappointment; 
and  over  the  grave  where  their  hopes  lie  buried,  a  les- 
son of  fearful  significance  stands  inscribed  in  characters 
of  desolation  and  blood,  proclaiming  to  all  ages,  that 
(^where  the  law  of  liberty  is  not  written  upon  the  soul, 
outward  freedom  is  a  mockery,  and  unchecked  power  a 
curse.) 

In  1793  Fichte  published  his  "  Contributions  to  the 
correction  of  public  opinion  upon  the  French  Revolu- 
tion." (The  leading  principle  of  this  work  is,  that  there 
is,  and  can  be,  no  absolutely  unchangeable  political  con- 
stitution, because  none  absolutely  perfect  can  be  re- 
alized ;  — the  relatively  best  constitution  must  therefore 
carry  within  itself  the  principle  of  change  and  improve- 
ment. And  if  it  be  asked  from  whom  this  improve- 
ment should  proceed,  it  is  replied,  that  all  parties  to 
the  political  contract  ought  equally  to  possess  this  right. 
And  by  this  political  contract  is  to  be  understood,  not 
any  actual  and  recorded  agreement  —  for  both  the  old 
and  new  opponents  of  this  view  think  they  can  destroy 
it  at  once  by  the  easy  remark,  that  we  have  no  histori- 
cal proof  of  the  existence  of  such  a  contract  —  but  the 
abstract  idea  of  a  State,  which,  as  the  peculiar  founda- 
tion of  all  rights,  should  lie  at  the  bottom  of  every 
actual  political  fabric.  The  work  comprises  also  an 
inquiry  concerning  the  privileged  classes  in  society, 
particularly  the  nobility  and  clergy,  whose  prerogatives 
are  subjected  to  a  prolonged  and  rigid  scrutiny.  In 
particular,  the  conflict  between  the  universal  rights  of 


76 


MEMOIR  OF  F1CHTE. 


reason,  and  historical  privileges  which  often  involve 
great  injustice,  is  brought  prominently  into  notice.  This 
book  brought  upon  Fichte  the  charge  of  being  a  demo- 
crat, which  was  afterwards  extended  into  that  of  athe- 
ism !  The  following  passage  is  from  his  own  defence 
against  the  former  charge,  written  at  a  later  period  :  — 
6C  And  so  I  am  a  democrat !  —  And  what  is  a  dem- 
ocrat ?  One  who  represents  the  democratic  form  of 
government  as  the  only  just  one,  and  recommends  its 
introduction  ?  I  should  think,  if  he  does  this  merely 
in  his  writings,  that,  even  under  a  monarchical  govern- 
ment, the  refutation  of  his  error,  if  it  be  an  error, 
might  be  left  to  other  literary  men.  So  long  as  he 
makes  no  direct  attempt  to  overthrow  the  existing  gov- 
ernment and  put  his  own  scheme  in  its  place,  I  do  not 
see  how  his  opinions  can  come  before  the  judgment- 
seat  of  the  State,  which  takes  cognizance  of  actions 
only.  However,  I  know  that  my  opponents  think 
otherwise  on  this  point.  Let  them  think  so,  if  they 
choose  :  does  the  accusation  then  justly  apply  to  me  ? 
Am  I  a  democrat  in  the  foregoing  sense  of  that  word  ? 
They  may  indeed  have  neither  heard  nor  read  anything 
about  me,  since  they  settled  this  idea  in  their  minds, 
and  wrote  '  democrat '  over  my  head  in  their  imagina- 
tions. Let  them  look  at  my  '  Principles  of  Natural 
Law,'  vol.  i.  p.  189,  &c.  It  is  impossible  to  name  any 
writer  who  has  declared  more  decidedly,  and  on  strong- 
er grounds,  against  the  democratic  form  of  government, 
as  an  absolutely  illegitimate  form.  Let  them  make  a 
fair  extract  from  that  book.  They  will  find  that  I  re- 
quire a  submission  to  law,  a  jurisdiction  of  law  over 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


77 


the  actions  of  the  citizen,  such  as  was  never  before 
demanded  by  any  teacher  of  jurisprudence,  and  has 
never  been  attempted  to  be  realized  in  any  constitution. 
Most  of  the  complaints  which  I  have  heard  against  this 
system,  have  turned  on  the  assertion  that  it  derogated 
too  much  from  the  freedom  (licentiousness  and  lawless- 
ness) of  men.    I  am  thus  far  from  preaching  anarchy. 

u  But  they  do  not  attach  a  definite  and  scientific 
meaning  to  the  word.  If  all  the  circumstances  in  which 
they  use  this  expression  were  brought  together,  it 
might  perhaps  be  possible  to  say  what  particular  sense 
they  annex  to  it  ;  and  it  is  quite  possible  that,  in  this 
sense,  I  may  be  a  very  decided  democrat  ;  —  it  is  at 
least  so  far  certain,  that  I  would  rather  not  be  at  all, 
than  be  the  subject  of  caprice  and  not  of  law." 

During  the  period  of  his  residence  at  Zurich,  how- 
ever, Fichte's  attention  was  occupied  with  another  sub- 
ject, more  important  to  science  and  to  his  own  future 
fame,  than  his  political  speculations.  This  was  the 
philosophical  system  on  which  his  reputation  chiefly 
rests.  It  would  be  altogether  out  of  place  in  the  pres- 
ent Memoir  to  enter  at  large  upon  a  subject  so  vast  and 
profound,  if  indeed  it  might  not  prove  altogether  impos 
sible  to  present,  in  any  form  intelligible  to  the  ordinary 
Knglish  reader,  the  results  of  these  abstruse  and  difficult 
speculations.  Yet  the  peculiarities  of  Fichte's  philo- 
sophical system  are  so  intimately  bound  up  with  the 
personal  character  of  its  author,  that  both  lose  some- 
thing of  their  completeness  when  considered  apart  from 
each  other.    And  it  is  principally  with  a  view  to  illus- 


78 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


trate  the  harmony  between  his  life  and  his  philosophy, 
that  an  attempt  is  here  made  to  point  out  some  of  its 
distinguishing  features.  As  Ftchte's  system  may  be 
considered  the  complement  of  those  which  preceded  it, 
we  must  view  it  in  connection  with  the  more  important 
of  these  ;  and  for  the  same  reason  we  shall  speak  of  it 
here,  not  as  it  shaped  itself  at  first  in  the  mind  of  its 
author,  but  in  the  developed  and  finally  completed  form 
in  which  he  taught  it  at  a  later  period  of  his  life. 

The  final  results  of  the  philosophy  of  Locke  were 
two-fold.  In  France,  the  school  of  Condillac,  imi- 
tating the  example  of  the  English  philosopher  rather 
than  following  out  his  first  principles,  occupied  itself  ex- 
clusively with  the  phenomena  of  sensation,  leaving  out 
of  sight  the  no  less  indisputable  facts  to  which  reflec- 
tion is  our  sole  guide.  The  consequence  was  a  system 
of  unmixed  materialism,  a  deification  of  physical  na- 
ture, and  ultimately,  avowed  atheism.  In  Great  Brit- 
ain, the  philosophy  of  experience  was  more  justly 
treated  :  both  sources  of  human  knowledge  which 
Locke  indicated  at  the  outset  of  his  inquiry  —  although 
in  the  body  of  his  essay  he  analyzed  one  of  them  only 
—  were,  recognized  by  his  followers  in  his  own  land, 
until  Bishop  Berkeley  resolved  the  phenomena  of  sen- 
sation into  those  of  reflection  ;  and  the  same  method 
which  in  France  led  to  materialism,  in  England  pro- 
duced a  system  of  intellectual  idealism.  Berkeley's 
principles  were  pushed  to  the  extreme  by  Hume,  who, 
applying  to  the  phenomena  of  reflection  precisely  the 
same  analysis  which  Berkeley  applied  to  those  of  sen- 
sation, demolished  the  whole  fabric  of  human  know- 


MEMOIR   OF  F1CHTE. 


79 


ledge,  and  revealed,  under  the  seemingly  substantial 
foundations  on  which  men  had  hitherto  built  their  faith, 
a  yawning  gulf  of  impenetrable  obscurity  and  skepti- 
cism. Feeling,  thought,  nay  consciousness  itself,  be- 
come but  fleeting  phantasms  without  any  abiding  subject 
in  which  they  inhere. 

It  may  be  safely  affirmed,  that  notwithstanding  the 
outcry  which  greeted  the  publication  of  the  u  Essay 
of  Human  Nature,"  and  the  senseless  virulence  which 
still  loads  the  memory  of  its  author  with  abuse,  none  of 
his  critics  have  hitherto  succeeded  in  detecting  a  fallacy 
in  his  main  argument.  Those  distinguished  philoso- 
phers who  are  generally  knowrn  by  the  name  of  the 
Scotch  School,  or  the  School  of  Common  Sense, 
although  deserving  of  all  gratitude  for  their  acute  inves- 
tigations into  the  intellectual  and  moral  powers  of  man, 
have  yet  confined  themselves  -chiefly  to  the  department 
of  psychological  analysis,  and  have  thrown  little  direct 
light  on  the  great  difficulties  of  metaphysical  specula- 
tion. This  was  reserved  for  the  modern  school  of 
Germany,  of  which  Kant  may  be  considered  the  head. 
Stewart,  although  contemporary  with  the  philosopher 
of  Konigsberg,  seems  to  have  had  not  only  an  im- 
perfect, but  a  quite  erroneous  conception  of  his  doc- 
trines. 

Kant  admitted  the  validity  of  Hume's  conclusions, 
on  the  premises  from  which  he  deduced  them.  He 
admitted  that  the  human  intellect  could  not  go  beyond 
itself,  could  not  furnish  us  with  any  other  than  subjec- 
tive knowledge.  The  impressions  which  we  receive 
from  without,  having  to  pass  through  the  prism  of  cer- 


so 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


tain  inherent  faculties  or  u  categories  "  of  the  under- 
standing, by  which  their  original  character  is  modified, 
or  perhaps  altogether  changed, — we  are  not  entitled  to 
draw  from  them  any  conclusions  upon  the  nature  of  the 
source  whence  they  emanate.  But  is  the  outward 
world,  which  we  are  thus  forced  to  abandon  to  doubt, 
the  only  reality  for  man  ?  Do  we  not  find  in  conscious- 
ness something  more  than  a  cognitive  faculty  ?  We 
find  besides,  will,  freedom,  self-determination  ;  and 
here  is  a  world  altogether  independent  of  sense  and  of 
the  knowledge  of  outward  things.  Freedom  is  the  root, 
the  very  ground-work  of  our  being  ;  free  determination 
is  the  most  intimate  and  certain  fact  in  our  nature.  But 
to  this  freedom  we  find  an  absolute  law  addressed, — 
the  unconditional  law  of  morality  —  demanding  fulfil- 
ment. Here,  then,  in  the  super-sensual  world  of  duly, 
of  free  obedience,  of  moral  determination,  we  have 
the  true  world  of  man,  in  which  the  moral  agent  is  the 
only  existence,  the  moral  act  the  only  reality.  Be- 
tween the  world  of  sense  and  the  world  of  morality 
stands  the  aesthetic  world,  or  the  system  of  relations 
we  hold  to  the  outward  world  through  our  ideas  of  the 
beautiful,  the  sublime,  &c.  ;  —  and  these  three  worlds 
exhaust  the  elements  of  human  consciousness. 

But  while  Kant,  by  throwing  the  bridge  of  aesthetic 
feeling  over  the  chasm  which  separates  the  sensible 
from  the  purely  spiritual  world,  established  an  outward 
communication  between  them,  he  did  not  attempt  to 
reconcile  —  he  maintained  the  impossibility  of  recon- 
ciling—  their  essential  opposition.  It  is  in  this  re- 
conciliation, —  in  tracing  this  opposition  to  its  source, 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


81 


—  in  the  establishment  of  the  unity  of  the  sensual  and 
super-sensual  worlds,  that  Fichte's  "Wissenchaftslehre" 
follows  out  and  completes  the  philosophical  system  of 
which  Kant  had  laid  the  foundation.  In  it,  for  the  first 
time,  philosophy  becomes,  not  a  theory  of  knowledge, 
but  knowledge  itself;  for  in  it  the  apparent  division  of 
the  subject  thinking  from  the  object  thought  of,  is 
abolished  by  penetrating  to  the  primitive  unity  out  of 
which  this  opposition  has  arisen. 

The  origin  of  this  opposition,  and  the  principle  by 
which  it  is  to  be  reconciled,  must  be  sought  for  in  the 
nature  of  the  thinking  subject  itself.  What  is  our  idea 
of  that  nature  ?  We  feel  ourselves  to  be  acted  upon  by 
influences  from  without,  and  on  the  other  hand  to  exer- 
cise an  influence  on  things  without  ;  limited  ourselves, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  cause  of  limitation  to  some- 
thing beyond  us.  But  whence  do  we  derive  this  double 
conception  ?  It  is  not  derived  ;  —  it  is  a  part  of  our- 
selves. Let  us  try  to  conceive  of  our  own  being  apart 
from  any  other  —  abstracted  from  all  other  existence. 
We  cannot  do  it.  The  fundamental  character  of  finite 
being  is  thus  the  supposition  of  itself  (thesis) ;  and 
of  something  opposed  to  itself  (antithesis) ;  which  two 
conceptions  are  reciprocal,  mutually  imply  each  other, 
and  are  hence  identical  (syntlitsis.)  The  Ego  supposes 
the  Non-Ego,  and  is  supposed  in  it  ;  —  the  two  con- 
ceptions are  indissoluble  ;  nay,  they  are  but  one  con- 
ception. In  the  different  aspects  which  this  double 
conception  assumes,  we  have  an  endless  chain  of  finite 
and  reciprocally  active  existences,  forming  together  the 
abstract  idea  of  Finity,  which  again  supposes  its  oppo- 


82 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


site,  Infinity.  As  conceived  of  by  the  finite  subject, 
the  idea  of  infinity  must  come  under  the  conditions  of 
finite  thought,  and  can  thus  only  be  the  Highest  that 
finite  thought  can  reach  —  an  absolute  Ego,  in  whose 
self-determination  all  the  Non-Ego  is  determined. 

The  aspect  of  the  finite  Ego  towards  the  Non-Ego 
is  practical ;  towards  the  infinite  Ego,  speculative.  In 
the  first  relation  we  find  ourselves  surrounded  by  exist- 
ences, over  one  part  of  which  we  exercise  causality, 
and  with  the  other  (in  whom  we  suppose  an  independ- 
ent causality)  we  are  in  a  state  of  reciprocal  influence. 
In  these  relations  the  active  and  moral  powers  of  man 
find  their  sphere.    The  moral  law  imparts  to  its  objects 
—  to  all  things  whose  existence  is  implied  in  its  fulfil- 
ment—  the  same  certainty  which  belongs  to  itself. 
The  outward  world  cannot  be  unreal,  for  we  have  im- 
perative duties  to  perform  which  demand  its  reality. 
Life  ceases  to  be  an  empty  show  without  truth  or  sig- 
nificance ;  —  it  is  our  field  of  duty,  the  theatre  on  which 
our  moral  destiny  is  to  be  wrought  out.     The  voice  of 
conscience,  of  highest  reason,  bids  us  know  and  love 
and  honor  beings  like  ourselves,  and  those  beings  crowd 
around  us.      The  ends  of  their  and  our  existence 
demand  the  powers  and  appliances  of  physical  life  for 
their  attainment;  —  that  life,  and  the  means  of  sus- 
taining and  using  it,  stand  before  us.    The  world  is 
nothing  more  than  the  sphere  and  object  of  human 
activity  ;  it  exists  because  the  purposes  of  our  moral 
life  require  its  existence.    Of  the  law  of  duty  we  are 
immediately  certain  ;  of  the  existence  of  the  world  we 
are  assured  by  means  of  that  previous  certainty.  Our 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


83 


life  begins  with  an  action,  not  a  thought  ;  we  do  not 
act  because  we  know,  but  we  know  because  we  are 
called  upon  to  act. 

But  not  only  does  the  law  of  human  activity  require 
our  belief  in  its  immediate  objects  and  implements  ;  it 
also  points  to  a  purpose,  an  aim,  in  our  actions  lying 
beyond  themselves,  to  which  they  stand  related  as 
means  to  an  end.  Not  that  the  moral  law  of  activity  is 
dependent  on  the  perception  of  this  end  —  the  moral 
law  is  absolute  and  imperative  in  itself — but  we  neces- 
sarily connect  with  our  actions  some  future  result  as  a 
consequence  to  which  they  inevitably  tend,  as  the  final 
accomplishment  of  the  purpose  which  gave  them  birth. 
The  moral  sense  cannot  find  such  a  fulfilment  in  the 
present  life  ;  —  the  forces  of  nature,  the  desires  and 
passions  of  men  constantly  oppose  its  dictates.  It  re- 
volts against  the  permanence  of  things  as  they  now  are, 
and  unceasingly  strives  to  make  them  better.  Nor 
can  the  individual  look  for  such  an  accomplishment  of 
the  moral  law  of  his  nature  in  the  progressive  improve- 
ment of  his  species.  Were  the  highest  grade  of  earthly 
perfection  conceived  and  attained  in  the  physical  and 
moral  world —  (as  it  is  conceivable  and  attainable)  — 
reason  would  still  propose  a  higher  grade  beyond  it. 
And  even  this  measure  of  perfection  could  not  be  ap- 
propriated by  humanity  as  its  own,  —  as  the  result  of 
its  own  exertions,  —  but  must  be  considered  as  the 
creation  of  an  unknown  power,  by  whose  unseen  agen- 
cy the  basest  passions  of  men,  and  even  their  vices  and 
crimes,  have  been  made  the  instruments  of  this  consum- 
mation ;  while  too  often  their  good  resolutions  appear 


84 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


altogether  lost  to  the  world,  or  even  to  retard  the  pur- 
poses which  they  were  apparently  designed  to  promote. 
The  chain  of  material  causes  and  effects  does  not  de- 
pend on  the  motives  and  feelings  which  prompt  an 
action,  but  solely  on  the  action  itself  ;  and  the  purposes 
of  mere  physical  existence  would  be  as  well,  or  better, 
promoted  by  an  unerring  mechanism,  than  by  the  agen- 
cy of  free  beings.    Nevertheless,  if  moral  obedience 
be  a  reasonable  service,  it  must  have  its  result  ;  if  the 
reason  which  commands  it  be  not  an  utterly  vain  delu- 
sion, its  law  must  be  fulfilled.    That  law  is  the  first 
principle  of  our  nature,  and  it  gives  us  the  assurance, 
our  faith  in  which  no  difficulty  can  shake,  that  no  moral 
act  can  be  fruitless,  no  work  of  reason  utterly  lost.  A 
chain  of  causes  and  effects,  in  which  freedom  is  super- 
fluous and  without  aim,  cannot  thus  be  the  limit  of  our 
existence  ;  the  law  of  our  being  cannot  be  fulfilled  in 
the  world  of  sense  ;  —  there  must  then  be  a  super-sen- 
sual world  in  which  it  may  be  accomplished.    In  this 
purely  spiritual  world,  will  alone  is  the  first  link  of  a 
chain  of  consequences  which  pervades  the  whole  invisi- 
ble realm  of  being  ;  as  action,  in  the  sensual  world,  is 
the  first  link  of  a  material  chain  which  runs  through  the 
whole  system  of  nature.     Will  is  the  active  living  prin- 
ciple of  the  super-sensual  world  ;  it  may  break  forth 
in  a  material  act  which  belongs  to  the  sensual  world, 
and  do  there  that  which  pertains  to  a  material  act  to 
do  ; — but,  independently  of  all  physical  manifestation, 
it  flows  forth  in  endless  spiritual  activity.    Here  human 
freedom  is  untrammeled  by  earthly  obstructions,  and 
the  moral  law  of  our  being  may  find  that  accomplishment 
which  it  sought  in  vain  in  the  world  of  sense 


MEMOIR  OF   FICHTE.  85 

But  although  we  are  immediately  conscious  that  our 
will,  our  moral  activity,  must  lead  to  consequences 
beyond  itself,  we  yet  cannot  know  what  those  conse- 
quences may  be,  nor  how  they  are  possible.  In  re- 
spect of  the  nature  of  these  results,  the  present  life  is,  in 
relation  to  the  future,  a  life  in  faith.  In  the  future 
life  we  shall  possess  these  results,  for  we  shall  then 
make  them  the  groundwork  of  new  activity,  and  thus 
the  future  life  will  be,  in  relation  to  the  present,  a  life 
in  sight.  But  the  spiritual  world  is  even  now  with  us, 
for  we  are  already  in  possession  of  the  principle  from 
winch  it  springs.  Our  will,  our  free  activity,  is  the 
only  attribute  which  is  solely  and  exclusively  our  own  ; 
and  by  it  we  are  already  citizens  of  the  eternal  world  ; 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  here,  or  nowhere  —  it  cannot 
become  more  immediately  present  at  any  point  of  finite 
existence.  This  life  is  the  beginning  of  our  being  ;  the 
outward  world  is  freely  given  to  us  as  a  firm  ground  on 
which  we  may  commence  our  course  ;  the  future  life  is 
its  continuance,  for  which  we  must  ourselves  create  a 
starting-period  in  the  present ;  and  should  the  aim  of 
this  second  life  prove  as  unattainable  to  finite  power, 
as  the  end  of  the  first  is  to  us  now,  then  the  fresh 
strength,  the  firmer  purpose,  the  clearer  sight  which 
shall  be  its  immediate  growth,  will  open  to  us  another 
and  a  higher  sphere  of  activity.  But  the  world  of  duty 
is  an  infinite  world;  —  every  finite  exertion  has  but  a 
definite  aim;  —  and  beyond  the  highest  point  toward 
which  our  laboring  being  strives,  a  higher  still  appears  ; 
and  to  such  progression  we  can  conceive  no  end.  By 
7 


86  MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 

free  determination  —  in  the  effort  after  moral  perfec- 
tion, we  have  laid  hold  on  eternal  life. 

In  the  physical  world  we  see  certain  phenomena  fol- 
lowing each  other  with  undeviating  regularity.  We 
cannot  say  that  what  we  name  cause  has  in  itself  any 
power  over  that  which  we  call  effect. — that  there  is 
any  relation  between  them  except  that  of  invariable 
sequence.  We  suppose  a  law  under  which  both  sub- 
sist, which  regulates  the  mode  of  their  existence,  and 
by  the  efficiency  of  which  the  order  of  their  succession 
is  determined.  So  likewise,  in  the  spiritual  world,  we 
entertain  the  firmest  conviction  that  our  moral  will  is 
connected  with  certain  consequences,  though  we  can- 
not understand  how  mere  will  can  of  itself  produce  such 
consequences.  We  here  again  conceive  of  a  law  under 
which  our  will,  and  the  will  of  all  finite  beings,  exists, 
in  virtue  of  which  it  is  followed  by  certain  results,  and 
out  of  which  all  our  relations  with  other  beings  arise. 
So  far  as  our  will  is  simply  an  internal  act,  complete  in 
itself,  it  lies  wholly  within  our  own  power  ;  —  so  far  as 
it  is  a  fact  in  the  super-sensual  world  —  the  first  of  a 
train  of  spiritual  consequences,  it  is  not  dependent  on 
ourselves,  but  on  the  law  which  governs  the  super- 
sensual  world.  But  the  super-sensual  world  is  a  world 
of  freedom,  of  living  activity  ;  its  principle  cannot  be  a 
mechanical  force,  but  must  itself  possess  this  freedom 
—  this  living  activity.  It  can  be  nothing  else  than  self- 
determining  reason.  But  self-determining  reason  is 
will.  The  law  of  the  super-sensual  world  must  thus  be 
a  Will :  —  a  will  operating  without  material  implement 
or  manifestation  ;  which  is  in  itself  both  act  and  pro- 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


87 


duct — which  is«eternal  and  unchangeable  ;  so  that  on 
it  finite  beings  may  securely  rely,  as  the  physical  man 
does  on  the  laws  of  his  world,  —  that  through  it,  all 
their  moral  acts  of  will,  and  these  only,  shall  lead  to 
certain  and  unfailing  results.  In  this  Living  Will,  as 
the  principle  of  the  spiritunl  world,  has  our  moral  will 
its  first  consequence,  and  through  Him  its  energy  is 
propagated  throughout  the  series  of  finite  beings  who 
are  the  products  of  the  Infinite  Will.  He  is  the  spirit- 
ual bond  which  unites  all  free  beings  together  :  not  im- 
mediately can  they  know  or  influence  each  other,  for 
they  are  separated  from  each  other  by  an  impassable 
barrier ;  —  their  mutual  knowledge  comes  through  Him 
alone,  to  whom  all  are  equally  related.  Our  faith  in 
duty,  and  in  the  objects  of  duty,  is  only  faith  in  Him, 
in  His  wisdom,  in  His  truth.  He  is  thus  the  creator 
and  sustainer  of  all  things,  for  in  Him  alone  all  the 
thronging  forms  which  people  our  dream  of  life,  14  live 
and  move  and  have  their  being."  All  partake  His 
essence  :  —  material  nature  disappears,  but  its  images 
are  invested  with  a  new  reality.  All  our  life  is  His 
life  ;  and  we  are  eternal,  for  He  is  eternal.  Birth  and 
the  grave  are  no  more,  but,  in  their  stead,  undying 
energy  and  immortal  youth.  Of  Him  —  the  Infinite 
One,  —  of  the  mode  of  His  being,  we  know  nothing, 
nor  need  we  to  know  ;  we  cannot  pierce  the  inaccessi- 
ble light  in  which  he  dwells,  but  through  the  shadows 
which  veil  His  presence  from  us,  an  endless  stream  of 
life  and  power  and  action  flows  around  and  about  us, 
bearing  us  and  all  finite  things  onward  to  new  life  and 
love  and  beauty. 


88 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


"The  One  remains,  the  many  change  an<tpass; 
Heaven's  light  for  ever  shines  ;  Earth's  shadows  fly ; 
Life,  like  a  dome  of  many-colored  glass, 
Stains  the  white  radiance  of  Eternity, 
Until  Death  tramples  it  to  fragments." 

All  death  in  nature  is  birth, — the  assumption  of  a  new 
garment,  to  replace  the  old  vesture  which  humanity  has 
laid  aside  in  its  progress  to  higher  being.  And  serene 
above  all  change,  the  unattainable  object  of  all  finite 
effort  —  fountain  of  our  life  —  home  of  our  spirits, — 
Thou  art  —  the  One  Being,  —  the  I  AM,  —  for  whom 
reason  has  no  idea,  and  language  no  name. 

"  Sublime  and  living  Will,  named  by  no  name,  com- 
passed by  no  thought,  I  may  raise  my  soul  to  Thee, 
for  Thou  and  I  are  not  divided.  Thy  voice  is  heard 
within  me,  mine  is  heard  by  Thee,  and  all  my  thoughts, 
if  they  are  good  and  true,  live  in  Thee  alone.  In  Thee, 
the  Incomprehensible,  I  myself,  and  the  world  in  which 
I  live,  stand  clear  before  me  ;  all  the  secrets  of  my 
existence  are  laid  open,  and  perfect  harmony  arises  in 
my  soul. 

"  Thou  art  best  known  to  the  childlike,  devoted, 
simple  heart.  To  it  Thou  art  the  searcher  of  all  hearts, 
who  seest  the  minds  of  men  ;  the  ever-present  true 
witness  of  their  thoughts,  who  knowest  if  they  are  good, 
who  knowest  them  though  all  the  world  know  them  not. 
Thou  art  the  Father  who  ever  desirest  their  good,  who 
rulest  all  things  for  the  best.  To  Thy  will  they  resign 
themselves8.:  '  Do  with  me,'  they  say,  £  what  Thou 
wilt  ;  I  know  that  it  is  good,  for  it  is  Thou  who  doest 
it.'    The  inquisitive  understanding,  which  has  heard 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


89 


of  Thee,  but  seen  Thee  not,  would  teach  us  Thy 
nature,  and,  as  Thy  image,  shows  us  a  monstrous 
and  incongruous  shape,  which  the  sagacious  laugh  at, 
and  the  wise  and  good  abhor. 

"  I  hide  my  face  before  Thee,  and  lay  my  hand  upon 
my  mouth.  How  Thou  art,  and  seemest  to  thine  own 
being,  I  can  never  know,  any  more  than  I  can  assume 
Thy  nature.  After  thousands  upon  thousands  of  spirit- 
lives,  I  shall  comprehend  Thee  as  little  as  I  do  now  in 
this  earthly  house.  That  which  I  conceive,  becomes 
finite  through  my  very  conception  of  it,  and  this  can 
never,  even  by  endless  exaltation,  rise  into  the  infinite. 
Thou  differest  from  men,  not  in  degree  but  in  nature. 
In  every  stage  of  their  advancement  they  think  of  Thee 
as  a  greater  man,  and  still  a  greater,  but  never  as  God 

—  the  Infinite,  —  whom  no  measure  can  mete.  I  have 
only  this  discursive,  progressive  thought,  and  I  can 
conceive  of  no  other.  How  can  I  venture  to  ascribe 
it  to  Thee  ?  In  the  idea  of  person  there  are  imperfec- 
tions, limitations.  How  can  I  clothe  Thee  with  it 
without  these  ? 

"  I  will  not  attempt  that  which  the  imperfection  of 
my  nature  forbids,  and  which  would  be  useless  to  me  : 

—  hoio  Thou  art,  I  may  not  know.  But  Thy  relations 
to  me  —  the  mortal  —  and  to  all  mortals,  lie  open  be- 
fore my  eyes,  were  I  only  what  I  should  be  ;  —  they 
surround  me  as  clearly  as  the  consciousness  of  my  own 
existence.  Thou  workest  in  me  the  knowledge  of  my 
duty,  of  my  vocation  in  the  world  of  reasonable  beings  : 

—  how,  I  know  not,  nor  need  I  to  know.  Thou 

knowest  what  I  think  and  what  I  will  :  —  how  Thou 

7# 


90 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


canst  know,  through  what  act  Thou  bringest  about  that 
consciousness,  I  cannot  understand, — nay,  I  know 
that  the  idea  of  an  act,  of  a  particular  act  of  conscious- 
ness, belongs  to  me  alone,  and  not  to  Thee.  Thou 
wiliest  that  my  free  obedience  shall  bring  with  it  eternal 
consequences  :  —  the  act  of  Thy  will  I  cannot  compre- 
hend —  I  only  know  that  it  is  not  like  mine.  Thou 
doest,  and  Thy  will  itself  is  the  deed  ;  but  the  way  of 
Thy  working  is  not  as  my  ways — I  cannot  trace  it. 
Thou  livest  and  art,  for  Thou  knowest  and  wili- 
est and  workest,  omnipresent  to  finite  reason  ;  but 
Thou  art  not  as  I  now  and  always  must  conceive  of 
being."  * 

Such  is  a  very  broken  and  imperfect  outline  of  the 
most  complete  system  of  transcendental  idealism  ever 
offered  to  the  world.  To  those  few  among  British 
students,  who,  amid  the  prevailing  degradation  of  senti- 
ment and  frivolity  of  thought,  have  pondered  the  deep 
mysteries  of  being  until  the  common  logic,  which  pre- 
tends to  grasp  its  secret,  seems  a  vain  and  presumptu- 
ous trifling  with  questions  which  lie  far  beyond  its 
reach,  and  who  find  in  the  theological  solution  but  a 
dry  and  worthless  husk  which  conceals  the  kernel  of 
truth  it  was  only  meant  to  preserve,  —  to  such  it  may 


*  Bestimmung  des  Menschen,  Book  iii.  —  This  is  the  most  popu- 
lar exposition  of  Fichte's  philosophy  which  exists,  and  from  it  the 
suhstance  of  the  preceding  abstract  has  been  taken.  It  was  first 
published  in  1799,  at  Berlin.  A  complete  and  uniform  edition  of 
Fichte's  works  is  at  present  (1845)  in  course  of  publication,  under 
the  superintendence  of  his  son. 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


91 


be  no  unacceptable  service  to  have  pointed  the  way  to 
a  modern  Academe,  where  the  moral  dignity  of  the 
Athenian  sage  is  united  with  the  poetic  sublimity  and 
intellectual  keenness  of  his  two  most  distinguished  pu- 
pils. If  by  such  humble  guidance  any  should  be  in- 
duced to  turn  aside  towards  that  retreat,  let  them  not 
be  deterred  if  at  first  the  path  should  seem  to  lack 
something  of  the  smoothness  of  the  well-trodden  high- 
way on  which  they  have  hitherto  travelled  ;  —  let  them 
proceed  courageously  ;  —  it  will  lead  them  into  calm 
sunshine,  and  beside  clear  and  refreshing  streams;  — 
nor  shall  they  return  thence  without  nobler  thoughts 
and  higher  aspirations. 

Fichte  lived  in  close  retirement  in  Zurich.  The 
manners  of  the  inhabitants  did  not  please  him,  and  he 
seldom  came  out  into  society.  His  wife,  his  father-in- 
law,  Lavater,  and  a  few  others,  composed  his  circle. 
It  is  pleasing  to  know  that  the  celebrated  and  venerable 
preacher  preserved,  even  in  advanced  age,  a  keen  relish 
for  new  truth  —  a  perfect  openness  of  mind  not  fre- 
quently met  with  in  his  profession.  At  his  request 
Fichte  prepared  a  short  course  of  lectures,  by  which  his 
friends  might  be  introduced  to  an  acquaintance  with  the 
Critical  Philosophy,  the  fame  of  which  had  now  reached 
Switzerland.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  lectures,  Lava- 
ter addressed  a  letter  of  thanks  to  his  young  instructor, 
full  of  expressions  of  gratitude  and  esteem,  in  which  he 
styles  himself  his  "  pupil,  friend,  and  fellow-man." 
Up  to  the  period  of  his  death,  this  excellent  man 
retained  the  warmest  feelings  of  friendship  towards  the 


92 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


philosopher  ;  —  and  the  following  lines,  written  some 
years  after  Fichte's  departure  from  Zurich,  whatever 
may  be  their  value  in  other  respects,  serve  at  least 
to  show  the  respect,  almost  approaching  to  reverence, 
with  which  Fichte  was  regarded  by  one  who  was  himself 
no  ordinary  man  :  — 

"  ©enluefle  nacl)  mefnem  EotJt,  an  J%zxxn  professor  JHclrte— 1800. 

"  Unerreichbarer  Denkner,  Dein  Daseyn  beweist  mir  das  Daseyn 
Eines  ewigen  Geistes,  dem  hohe  Geister  entstrahlen  ! 
Kdnntest  je  Du  zweifeln:  ich  stellte  Dich  selbst  vor  Dich  selbst  nur; 
Zeigte  Dir  in  Dir  selbst  den  Strahl  des  ewigen  Geistes." 

Although  Fichte  had  as  yet  published  nothing  to 
which  his  name  was  attached,  he  had  nevertheless 
acquired  an  extensive  philosophical  reputation.  In 
several  powerful  and  searching  criticisms  which  appear- 
ed in  the  u  Allgemeine  Literatur  Zeitung,"  the  hand 
of  the  author  of  the  u  Critique  of  Revelation"  was 
discovered.  He  was  now  generally  looked  upon  as 
the  man  who  was  destined  to  complete  the  philosophy 
of  Kant.  He  was  thus  led  into  literary  correspondence 
with  some  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  day. 
At  the  head  of  these  must  be  placed  Reinhold,  the  pro- 
fessor of  philosophy  at  Jena,  who  had  hitherto  stood 
first  among  the  disciples  of  Kant.  The  relation  be- 
tween these  two  celebrated  men  was  a  most  remarka- 
ble one.  Although  their  characters  were  very  different, 
although  they  never  saw  each  other,  they  lived  on  terms 
of  the  most  intimate  and  trustful  confidence,  such  as  is 
commonly  attained  by  long-tried  friendship  alone.  In 
their  extensive  correspondence,  Fitchte's  powerful  and 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


93 


commanding  intellect  evidently  possesses  great  ascend- 
ency over  the  more  diffident  and  pliable  nature  of  Rein- 
hold  ;  but  his  influence  never  interferes  with  the  mental 
freedom  of  his  friend.  On  the  other  hand,  Reinhold's 
open  and  enthusiastic  character,  and  his  pure  love  of 
truth,  engaged  the  warm  affection  and  sympathy  of  his 
more  daring  correspondent  ;  —  while  the  frequent  mis- 
understandings, which  lend  an  almost  dramatic  interest 
to  their  letters,  afford  room  for  the  exhibition  of  manly 
and  generous  kindness  in  both.  In  1797  Reinhold 
abandoned  his  own  system  and  accepted  the  "  Wissen- 
schaftslehre,"  announcing  the  change  to  Fichte  in  the 
following  terms  :  — 

"  I  have  at  length  come  to  understand  your  c  Wis- 
senschaftslehre,'  or  what  is  the  same  thing  to  me  — 
philosophy  without  nickname.  It  now  stands  before 
me  as  a  perfect  whole,  founded  on  itself  —  the  pure 
conception  of  self-conscious  reason,  —  the  mirror  of 
our  better  selves.  Individual  parts  are  still  obscure  to 
me,  but  they  cannot  now  deprive  me  of  my  compre- 
hension of  the  whole  ;  and  their  number  is  every  day 
diminishing.  Beside  it  lie  the  ruins  of  the  edifice 
which  cost  me  so  much  time  and  labor,  in  which  I 
thought  to  dwell  so  securely  and  commodiously,  to  en- 
tertain so  many  guests,  —  in  which  I  laughed,  not  with- 
out self-gratulation,  over  so  many  Kantists  who  mistook 
the  scaffolding  for  the  house  itself.  This  catastrophe 
would  have  caused  me  much  pain  for  a  time,  if  it  had 
happened  by  the  hand  of  skepticism." 

"  Adieu  !  I  salute  you  with  deepest  gratitude.  Is 
personal  intercourse  absolutely  necessary  to  the  growth 


94 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


of  friendship  ?  I  doubt  it.  For  indeed  it  is  not  mere 
gratitude,  not  mere  reverence,  —  it  is  heartfelt  love  that 
I  feel  for  you,  since  I  now,  through  your  philosophy, 
understand  yourself." 

In  Fichte's  literary  correspondence  from  Zurich  we 
find  the  first  intimations  of  his  departure  from  the  sys- 
tem of  Kant,  and  his  plan  of  a  complete  and  compre- 
hensive philosophy.  He  could  not  rest  satisfied  with 
results  alone,  unless  he  could  perceive  the  grounds  on 
which  they  rested.  His  reason  imperatively  demanded 
absolute  unity  of  conception,  without  separation,  with- 
out division,  —  above  all,  without  opposition.  Writing 
to  Niethammer,  in  October  1793,  he  says  —  "  My  con- 
viction is  that  Kant  has  only  indicated  the  truth,  but 
neither  unfolded  nor  proved  it.  This  singular  man 
either  has  a  power  of  divining  truth,  without  being  him- 
self conscious  of  the  grounds  on  which  it  rests  ;  or  he 
has  not  esteemed  his  age  worthy  of  the  communication 
of  those  grounds  ;  or  he  has  shrunk  from  attracting  that 
superhuman  reverence  during  his  life,  which  sooner  or 
later  must  be  his  in  some  degree."  And  as  the  great 
idea  of  his  own  system  dawned  upon  his  mind,  he  says 
to  Stephani  —  "I  have  discovered  a  new  principle, 
from  which  all  philosophy  can  easily  be  deduced. 
In  a  couple  of  years  we  shall  have  a  philosophy  with 
all  the  clearness  of  geometrical  evidence."  —  To  the 
development  of  this  scheme  he  now  devoted  all  the  en- 
ergies of  his  powerful  intellect.  He  refused  an  invita- 
tion to  become  tutor  to  the  Prince  of  Mecklenberg- 
Strelitz  :  —  "I  desire,"  he  says,  "  nothing  but  leisure 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


95 


to  execute  my  plan, — then  fortune  may  do  with  me 
what  it  will." 

But  his  studies  were  soon  broken  in  upon  by  a  call 
of  another  and  more  important  nature.  This  was  his 
appointment  as  Professor  Supernumerarius  of  Philoso- 
phy at  the  University  of  Jena,  in  room  of  Reinhold, 
who  removed  to  Kiel.  The  distinguished  honor  of  this 
invitation,  unasked  and  unexpected  as  it  was,  and  the 
extensive  field  of  usefulness  which  it  opened  to  him, 
determined  Fichte  at  once  to  accept  it.  He  endeavor- 
ed to  obtain  a  postponement  of  the  period  for  com- 
mencing his  duties,  which  had  been  fixed  for  Easter, 
1794,  in  order  that,  by  the  more  complete  elaboration 
of  the  principle  which  he  had  discovered,  he  might  be 
able  to  elevate  his  philosophy  at  once  to  the  rank  of  a 
positive  science.  For  this  purpose  he  requested  a 
year's  delay.  But  as  it  was  considered  that  the  inter- 
est of  the  University  would  be  prejudiced  by  the  chair 
remaining  so  long  vacant,  his  request  was  refused,  — 
with  permission,  however,  to  devote  the  greater  part  of 
his  time,  during  the  first  year,  to  study.  He  therefore 
sent  an  unconditional  acceptance,  and  plunged  at  once 
into  the  most  arduous  preparations  for  his  new  duties. 

Weimar  and  its  neighboring  University  was  at  this 
time  the  focus  of  German  literature  and  learning.  The 
Grand  Duke  Charles  Augustus  had  gathered  around 
him  the  most  distinguished  men  of  his  age,  and  Wieland, 
Herder,  Goethe,  Schiller  and  Humboldt,  shed  a  more 
than  Medicean  lustre  upon  the  little  Saxon  Court. 
Probably  at  no  other  time  was  so  much  high  genius, 


96 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


engaged  in  every  department  of  mental  exertion,  gath- 
ered together  in  one  spot.  The  University,  too,  was 
the  most  numerously  frequented  of  any  in  Germany, 
not  by  the  youth  of  Saxony  alone,  but  by  students  from 
almost  every  part  of  Europe  :  Switzerland,  Denmark, 
Poland,  Hungary,  the  free  cities,  and  even  France, 
sent  their  sons  to  Jena  for  education.  The  brilliant 
intellectual  circle  at  Weimar  presented  to  the  cultivated 
mind  attractions  which  could  be  found  nowhere  else, 
whilst  at  Jena  the  academic  teacher  found  a  most  ex- 
tensive and  honorable  field  for, the  exercise  of  his  pow- 
ers. It  was  to  this  busy  scene  of  mental  activity  that 
Fichte  was  called  from  his  Swiss  retreat, —  to  the  so- 
ciety of  the  greatest  living  men,  —  to  the  instruction 
of  this  thronging  crowd  from  all  surrounding  nations. 
Previous  to  his  own  appearance,  he  published,  as  a  pro- 
gramme of  his  lectures,  the  u  BegrifF  der  Wissen- 
schaftslehre  oder  der  Sogenannten  Philosophie.,,  His 
reputation,  and  the  bold  originality  of  his  system,  drew 
universal  attention.  Expectation  was  strained  to  the 
utmost ;  so  that  those  who  had  marked  the  rapid  growth 
of  his  fame,  had  great  apparent  reason  to  fear  that  it 
might  prove  short-lived.  But  notwithstanding  the  short- 
ness of  the  time  allowed  him  for  preparation,  he  entered 
upon  his  course  with  a  clear  perception  of  the  task  that 
lay  before  him,  and  confident  reliance  on  his  own  power 
to  fulfil  the  duties  to  which  he  was  called. 

He  arrived  at  Jena  on  the  18th  of  May,  1794,  and 
was  received  with  great  kindness  by  his  colleagues  at 
the  University.  On  the  23d  he  delivered  his  first  lec- 
ture.   The  largest  hall  in  Jena,  although  crowded  to 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


97 


the  roof,  proved  insufficient  to  contain  the  audience. 
His  singular  and  commanding  address,  his  fervid,  fiery 
eloquence,  the  rich  profusion  of  his  thoughts,  following 
each  other  in  the  most  convincing  sequence,  and  mod- 
elled with  the  sharpest  precision,  astonished  and  de- 
lighted his  hearers.  His  triumph  was  complete  ;  —  he 
left  the  Hall  the  most  popular  Professor  of  the  greatest 
University  in  Germany.  The  following  acute  and 
graphic  remarks  on  this  subject,  from  Forberg's  u  Frag- 
menten  aus  meinen  Papieren,"  afford  us  some  glimpse 
of  the  opinions  entertained  of  him  by  his  contempora- 
ries at  Jena  :  — 

"Jena,  \2th  May,  1794. 

u  I  look  with  great  confidence  to  Fichte,  who  is 
daily  expected  here.  But  I  would  have  had  still  greater 
confidence  in  him  if  he  had  written  the  '  Kritik  der 
OrTenbarung  '  twenty  years  later.  A  young  man  who 
ventures  to  write  a  masterpiece  must  commonly  suffer 
for  it.  He  is  what  he  is,  and  he  will  not  be  what  he 
might  have  been.  He  has  spent  his  strength  too  soon, 
and  his  later  fruits  will  at  least  want  ripeness.  A  great 
mind  has  no  merit  if  it  does  not  possess  sufficient  resig- 
nation not  to  appear  great  for  a  time,  that  thereby  it  may 
become  greater.  If  a  man  cannot  sacrifice  a  dozen 
years'  fame  as  an  offering  to  truth,  what  else  can  he  lay 
upon  her  altar  ?  I  believe  that  Reinhold's  theory>has 
done  much  injury  to  the  study  of  the  Kantean  philoso- 
phy, but  that  is  nothing  to  the  injury  it  has  done  to  the 
author  himself.  His  philosophy  is  finished  for  this 
world,  —  nothing  more  is  to  be  expected  from  him  but 
polemics  and  reminiscences.  Fichte  is  not  here  yet,  — 
8 


98 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


but  I  am  eager  to  know  whether  he  has  anything  still 
to  learn.  It  would  be  almost  a  wonder  if  he  has,  con- 
sidering the  incense  that  they  burn  before  him.  Oh  ! 
there  is  nothing  so  easily  unlearned  as  the  power  of 
learning.'^ 

"  7th  December,  1794. 

"  Since  Reinhold  has  left  us,  his  philosophy  (with 
us  at  least)  has  expired.  Every  trace  of  the  "  Phi- 
losophy without  nickname  "  has  vanished  from  among 
the  students.  Fichte  is  believed  in,  as  Reinhold  never 
was  believed  in.  They  understand  him  indeed  even 
less  than  they  did  his  predecessor  ;  but  they  believe  all 
the  more  obstinately  on  that  account.  Ego  and  Non- 
Ego  are  now  the  symbols  of  the  philosophers  of  yes- 
terday, as  substance  and  form  were  formerly. 

"  Fichte's  philosophy  is,  so  to  speak,  more  philo- 
sophical than  Reinhold's.  You  hear  him  going  digging 
and  seeking  after  truth.  In  rough  masses  he  brings  it 
forth  from  the  deep,  and  throws  it  from  him.  He  does 
not  say  what  he  will  do  ;  he  does  it.  Reinhold's  doc- 
trine was  rather  an  announcement  of  a  philosophy,  than 
a  philosophy  itself.  He  has  never  fulfilled  his  prom- 
ises. Not  unfrequently  did  he  give  forth  the  promise 
for  the  fulfilment.  He  never  will  fulfil  them,  —  for  he 
is  now  past  away.  Fichte  seems  really  determined  to 
work  upon  the  world  through  his  philosophy.  The 
tendency  to  restless  activity  which  dwells  in  the  breast 
of  every  noble  youth,  he  would  carefully  nourish  and 
cultivate,  that  it  may  in  due  season  bring  forth  fruit. 
He  seizes  every  opportunity  of  teaching  that  action, 
action,  is  the  vocation  of  man  ;  whereby  it  is  only  to 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


99 


be  feared  that  the  majority  of  young  men  who  lay  the 
maxim  to  heart,  may  look  upon  this  summons  to  action 
as  only  a  summons  to  demolition.  And,  strictly  speak- 
ing, the  principle  is  false.  Man  is  not  called  upon  to 
act,  but  to  act  justly  ;  if  he  cannot  act  without  acting 
unjustly,  he  should  jemain  inactive. 

u  Every  reader  of  Kant  or  Fichte  is  seized  by  a 
deep  feeling  of  the  superiority  of  these  mighty  minds  ; 
who  wrestle  with  their  subjects,  as  it  were,  to  grind 
them  to  powder  ;  who  seem  to  say  all  that  they  do  say 
to  us,  only  that  we  may  conjecture  how  much  more 
they  could  say. 

"  All  the  truth  that  J  has  written  is  not  worth  a 

tenth  part  of  the  false  which  Fichte  may  have  written. 
The  one  gives  me  a  small  number  of  known  truths  ; 
the  other  gives  me  perhaps  one  truth,  but  in  doing  so, 
opens  before  me  the  prospect  of  an  infinity  of  unknown 
truths  

"  It  is  certain  that  in  Fichte's  philosophy  there  is 
quite  a  different  spirit  from  that  which  pervades  the  phi- 
losophy of  his  predecessor.  The  spirit  of  the  latter  is 
a  weak,  fearful  spirit,  which  timidly  includes  wide,  nar- 
row, and  narrowest  shades  of  meaning  between  the 
hedges  and  fences  of  a  'to  some  extent' — and  4  in 
so  far ;  '  a  weak,  exhausted  spirit,  which  conceals 
(and  ill-conceals)  its  poverty  of  thought  behind  the 
mantle  of  scholastic  phraseology,  and  whose  philoso- 
phy is  form  without  substance,  a  skeleton  without  flesh 
and  blood,  body  without  life,  promise  without  fulfilment. 
But  the  spirit  of  Fichte's  philosophy  is  a  proud  and 
bold  spirit,  for  which  the  domain  of  human  knowledge, 


100 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


even  in  its  widest  extent,  is  too  narrow  ;  which  opens 
up  new  paths  with  every  step  it  takes  ;  which  struggles 
with  language  in  order  to  wrest  from  it  words  enough 
for  its  wealth  of  thought  ;  which  does  not  lead  us,  but 
seizes  us  and  hurries  us  along,  and  whose  ringer  cannot 
touch  an  object  without  bruising  it  to  dust.  But  that 
which  especially  gives  Fichte's  philosophy  quite  another 
interest  from  that  of  Reinhold,  is  this,  —  that  in  all  his 
inquiries  there  is  a  motion,  a  struggle,  an  effort,  thor- 
oughly to  solve  the  hardest  problems  of  reason.  His 
predecessor  never  appeared  to  suspect  the  existence  of 
these  problems  —  to  say  nothing  of  their  solution. 
Fichte's  philosophemes  are  inquiries  in  which  we  see 
the  truth  before  our  eyes,  and  thus  they  produce  know- 
ledge and  conviction.  Reinhold's  philosophemes  are 
exhibitions  of  results,  the  production  of  which  goes  on 
behind  the  scenes.     We  may  believe,  but  we  cannot 

know  !  

u  The  fundamental  element  of  Fichte's  character  is 
the  highest  honesty.  Such  a  character  commonly  knows 
little  of  delicacy  and  refinement.  In  his  writings  we  do 
not  meet  with  much  that  is  particularly  beautiful  ;  his 
best  passages  are  always  distinguished  by  greatness  and 
strength.  He  does  not  say  fine  things,  but  all  his  words 
have  force  and  weight.  He  wants  the  amiable,  kind, 
attractive,  accommodating  spirit  of  Reinhold.  His 
principles  are  severe,  and  not  much  softened  by  hu- 
manity. Nevertheless  he  suffers  what  Reinhold  could 
not  suffer — contradiction  ;  and  understands  what  Rein- 
hold could  not  understand  —  a  joke.  His  superiority 
is  not  felt  to  be  so  humiliating  as  that  of  Reinhold  ;  but 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE 


101 


if  he  is  called  forth,  he  is  terrible.  His  is  a  restless 
spirit,  thirsting  for  opportunity  to  do  great  things  in  the 
world. 

"  Fichte's  public  delivery  does  not  flow  on  smoothly, 
sweetly,  and  softly,  as  Reinhold's  did ;  it  rushes  along 
like  a  tempest,  discharging  its  fire  in  separate  masses. 
He  does  not  move  the  soul  as  Reinhold  did  —  he 
rouses  it.  The  one  seemed  as  if  he  would  make  men 
good  —  the  other  would  make  them  great.  Reinhold's 
face  was  mildness,  and  his  form  was  majesty  ;  Fichte's 
eye  is  threatening,  and  his  step  daring  and  defiant. 
Reinhold's  philosophy  was  an  endless  polemic  against 
Kantists  and  Anti-Kantists  ;  Fichte,  with  his,  desires 
to  lead  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  he  knows  its  weak  side, 
and  therefore  he  addresses  it  on  the  side  of  politics. 
He  possesses  more  readiness,  more  acuteness,  more 
penetration,  more  genius,  —  in  short,  more  spiritual 
power  than  Reinhold.  His  fancy  is  not  flowing,  but 
it  is  energetic  and  mighty ;  —  his  pictures  are  not 
charming,  but  they  are  bold  and  massive.  He  pen- 
etrates to  the  innermost  depths  of  his  subject,  and 
moves  about  in  the  ideal  world  with  an  ease  and  confi- 
dence which  proclaim  that  he  not  only  dwells  in  that 
invisible  land,  but  rules  there."* 

*  The  following  graphic  sketch  of  Fichte's  personal  appearance  and 
manner  of  delivery,  is  taken  from  the  Autobiography  of  Henry  Stef- 
fens.  Although  it  refers  to  a  later  period  of  his  life,  it  is  thought 
most  appropriate  to  introduce  it  here  :  — 

"Fichte  appeared,  to  deliver  his  introductory  lecture  on  the 
Destination  of  Man.  This  short,  strong-built  man,  with  sharp, 
commanding  features,  made,  I  must  confess,  a  most  imposing  ap- 
pearance, as  1  then  saw  him  for  the  first  time.  Even  his  language 
8* 


102 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


Doubts  were  entertained,  even  before  Fichte's  arrival 
at  Jena,  that  bis  ardent  and  active  spirit  might  lead  him 
to  use  the  influence  he  should  acquire  over  the  students 
for  the  furtherance  of  political  projects.  His  supposed 
democratic  opinions  were  even  made  a  ground  of  ob- 
jection to  his  appointment.  And  it  cannot  be  affirmed 
that  such  anticipations  were  improbable ;  for  certainly 
the  tendency  of  his  own  character,  and  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  the  age,  presented  strong  temptations 
to  convert  the  chair  of  the  professor  into  the  pulpit  of 
the  practical  philanthropist.  He  himself  says  that  he 
was  assailed  by  not  a  few  such  temptations,  and  even 
invitations,  at  the  beginning  of  his  residence  at  Jena, 
but  that  he  resolutely  cast  them  from  him.    He  was 


had  a  cutting  sharpness.  Well  acquainted  with  the  metaphysical 
incapacity  of  his  hearers,  he  took  the  greatest  possible  pains  fully 
to  demonstrate  his  propositions;  but  there  was  an  air  of  authori- 
tativeness  in  his  discourse,  as  if  he  would  remove  all  doubts  by 
mere  word  of  command.  'Gentlemen,'  said  he,  4  collect  your- 
selves —  go  into  yourselves  —  for  we  have  here  nothing  to  do  with 
things  without,  but  simply  with  the  inner  self  Thus  summoned, 
the  auditors  appeared  really  to  go  into  themselves.  Some,  to  fa- 
cilitate the  operation,  changed  their  position,  and  stood  up  ;  some 
drew  themselves  together,  and  cast  their  eyes  upon  the  floor  :  all 
were  evidently  waiting  under  high  excitement  for  what  was  to 
follow  this  preparatory  summons.  '  Gentlemen,'  continued  Fichte, 
'think  the  wall' —  (Denken  Sie  die  Wand.)  This  was  a  task  to 
which  the  hearers  were  evidently  all  equal ;  they  thought  the 
wall.  '  Have  you  thought  the  wall  ? '  asked  Fichte.  '  Well  then, 
gentlemen,  think  him  who  thought  the  wall.'  It  was  curious  to 
see  the  evident  confusion  and  embarrassment  that  now  arose. 
Many  of  his  audience  seemed  to  be  utterly  unable  anywhere  to 
find  him  who  had  thought  the  wall.  — Fichte's  delivery  was  ex- 
cellent, being  marked  throughout  by  clearness  and  precision." 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


103 


not  one  of  those  utilitarian  philosophers,  who  willingly 
sacrifice  high  and  enduring  good  to  the  attainment  of 
some  partial  and  temporary  purpose.  His  idea  of  the 
vocation  of  an  academical  teacher  (set  forth  at  large  in 
the  ninth  lecture,  on  the  Nature  of  the  Scholar, 
and  its  Manifestations),  opened  to  him  another  field 
of  duty,  superior  to  that  of  direct  political  activ- 
ity. In  all  his  intercourse  with  his  pupils,  public 
or  private,  his  sole  object  was  the  development  and 
cultivation  of  their  moral  and  intellectual  powers.  No 
trace  can  be  found  of  any  attempt  to  lead  his  hearers 
upon  the  stage  of  actual  life,  while  the  opposition  be- 
tween the  speculative  and  practical  sides  of  their  nature 
still  existed.  To  reconcile  this  opposition  was  the 
great  object  of  his  philosophy.  In  his  hands,  philos- 
ophy was  no  longer  speculation,  but  knowledge  —  (it 
was  soon  divested  even  of  its  scholastic  terminology, 
and  the  Ego,  Non-Ego,  &c,  entirely  laid  aside), — 
the  expression  of  the  profoundest  thoughts  of  man  on 
himself,  the  world,  and  God  ;  —  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  morality  was  no  preceptive  legislation,  but  the 
natural  development  of  the  active  principle  of  our 
own  being,  indissolubly  bound  up  with,  and  indeed  the 
essential  root  of,  its  intellectual  aspect.  Binding  to- 
gether into  a  common  unity  every  mode  and  manifesta- 
tion of  our  nature,  his  philosophy  is  capable  of  the 
widest  application,  and  of  an  almost  infinite  variety  of 
expression  ;  while  in  the  ceaseless  elevation  of  our  whole 
being  to  higher  grades  of  nobility  and  greatness,  is  found 
at  once  its  intellectual  supremacy  and  its  moral  power. 
So  far  indeed  was  Fichte  from  lending  his  counte- 


104 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


nance  to  political  combination  among  the  students,  or 
inculcating  any  sentiments  subversive  of  the  existing 
arrangements  of  society,  —  that  no  one  suffered  more 
than  he  did,  from  the  clergy  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
students  on  the  other,  in  the  attempt  to  maintain  good 
order  in  the  University.  The  unions  known  by  the 
name  of  Landsmannschaften  existed  at  that  time  in  the 
German  schools  of  learning  as  they  do  now,  but  their 
proceedings  were  then  marked  by  much  greater  turbu- 
lence and  license  than  they  are  at  the  present  day. 
Riots  of  the  most  violent  description  were  of  common 
occurrence  ;  houses  were  broken  into,  and  robbed  of 
their  contents,  to  supply  the  marauders  with  the  means 
of  sensual  indulgence.  The  arm  of  the  law  was  im- 
potent to  restrain  these  excesses  ;  and  so  bold  had  the 
unionists  become,  that  upon  one  occasion,  when  the 
house  of  a  professor  had  been  ransacked,  five  hundred 
students  openly  demanded  from  the  Duke  an  amnesty 
for  the  offence.  Efforts  had  been  made  at  various 
times,  by  the  academical  authorities,  to  suppress  these 
societies,  but  the  students  only  broke  out  into  more 
frightful  excesses  when  any  attempt  was  made  to  re- 
strain their  "  Burschen-rights,"  or  "  Academical  free- 
dom." In  the  hope  of  effecting  some  reformation  of 
manners  in  the  University,  Fichte  commenced,  soon 
after  his  arrival  at  Jena,  a  course  of  public  lectures  on 
academical  morality.  Some  of  these  were  afterwards 
published  under  the  title  of  "  Lectures  on  the  destiny 
of  the  Scholar."  These  lectures,  and  his  own  per- 
sonal influence  among  the  students,  were  attended  with 
the  happiest  effects.    The  three  orders  which  then 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


105 


existed  at  Jena  expressed  their  willingness  to  dissolve 
their  union,  on  condition  of  the  past  being  forgotten. 
They  delivered  over  to  Fichte  the  books  and  papers  of 
their  society,  for  the  purpose  of  being  destroyed  as 
soon  as  he  could  effect  their  peace  with  the  Court  at 
Weimar,  and  receive  a  commission  to  administer  to 
them  the  oath  of  renunciation,  which  they  would  re- 
ceive from  no  one  but  himself.  After  some  delay, 
caused  in  part  by  the  authorities  of  the  University,  who 
seem  to  have  been  jealous  of  the  success  with  which 
an  individual  professor  had  accomplished,  without  as- 
sistance, what  they  had  in  vain  endeavored  to  effect  by 
threatenings  and  punishment,  the  desired  arrangements 
were  effected,  and  the  commission  arrived.  But  in 
consequence  of  some  doubts  to  which  this  delay  had 
given  rise,  one  of  the  three  orders  drew  back  from 
the  engagement,  and  turned  with  great  virulence  against 
Fichte,  whom  they  suspected  of  deceiving  them. 

Encouraged,  however,  by  the  success  which  had 
attended  his  efforts  with  the  two  other  orders,  Fichte 
determined  to  pursue  the  same  course  during  the  winter 
session  of  1794,  and  to  deliver  another  series  of  public 
lectures,  calculated  to  rouse  and  sustain  a  spirit  of 
honor  and  morality  among  the  students.  Thoroughly 
to  accomplish  his  purpose,  it  was  necessary  that  these 
lectures  should  take  place  at  an  hour  not  devoted  to 
any  other  course,  so  that  he  might  assemble  an  audience 
from  among  all  the  different  classes.  But  he  found  that 
every  hour  from  8  a.  m.  to  7  p.  m.  was  already  occu- 
pied by  lectures  on  important  branches  of  knowledge. 
No  way  seemed  open  to  him  but  to  deliver  his  moral 


106 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


discourses  on  Sundays.  Before  adopting  this  plan, 
however,  he  made  diligent  inquiries  whether  any  law, 
either  of  the  State  or  of  the  University,  forbade  such 
a  proceeding.  Discovering  no  such  prohibition,  he 
examined  into  the  practice  of  other  Universities,  and 
found  many  precedents  to  justify  Sunday-lectures  — 
particularly  a  course  of  a  similar  nature  delivered  by 
Gellert  at  Berlin.  He  finally  asked  the  opinion  of 
some  of  the  oldest  professors,  none  of  whom  could 
see  any  objection  to  his  proposal,  provided  he  did  not 
encroach  upon  the  time  devoted  to  divine  service  ;  — 
Schutz  remarking,  "  If  plays  are  allowed  on  Sunday, 
why  not  moral  lectures  ?  "  The  hour  of  divine  ser- 
vice in  the  University  was  11  A.  m.  Fichte  therefore 
fixed  upon  nine  in  the  morning  as  his  hour  of  lecture, 
and  commenced  his  course  with  most  favorable  pros- 
pects. A  large  concourse  of  students  from  all  the 
different  classes  thronged  his  hall,  and  several  of  the 
professors,  who  took  their  places  among  the  audience, 
willingly  acknowledged  the  benefit  which  they  derived 
from  his  discourses.  But  he  soon  discovered  that  the 
best  intentions  and  the  most  prudent  conduct  are  no 
protection  against  calumny.  A  political  print,  which 
had  attained  an  unenviable  notoriety  for  anonymous 
slander,  and  had  distinguished  itself  by  crawling  syco- 
phancy towards  power,  now  exhibited  its  far-seeing 
sagacity,  by  tracing  the  intimate  connection  between 
the  Sunday-lectures  and  the  French  Revolution,  and 
proclaimed  the  former  to  be  a  "  formal  attempt  to 
overturn  the  public  religious  services  of  Christianity, 
and  to  erect  the  worship  of  Reason  in  their  stead  !  " 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


107 


Strange  to  tell,  the  Consistory  of  Jena  saw  it  to  be 
their  duty  to  forward  a  complaint  on  this  subject  to  the 
High-Consistory  at  Weimar  ;  and  finally  an  assembly, 
in  which  a  Herder  sat,  lodged  an  accusation  before  the 
Duke  and  Privy-council  against  Professor  Fichte,  for 
"  a  deliberate  attempt  against  the  public  religious  ser- 
vices of  the  country."  Fichte  was  directed  to  suspend 
his  lectures  in  the  meantime,  until  inquiry  could  be 
made.  He  immediately  met  the  accusation  with  a 
powerful  defence,  in  which  he  indignantly  hurls  back 
the  charge,  completely  demolishing,  by  a  simple  narra- 
tive of  the  real  facts,  every  vestige  of  argument  by 
which  it  could  be  supported  ;  and  takes  occasion  to 
make  the  Government  acquainted  with  his  projects  for 
the  moral  improvement  of  the  students.  The  judgment 
of  the  Duke  is  dated  25th  January,  1795,  and  by  it 
Fichte  u  is  freely  acquitted  of  the  utterly  groundless 
suspicion  which  had  been  attached  to  him,"  and  confi- 
dence is  expressed,  "that  in  his  future  proceedings, 
he  will  exhibit  such  wisdom  and  prudence  as  shall 
entitle  him  to  the  continued  good  opinion  "  of  the 
Prince.  Permission  was  given  him  to  resume  his 
Sunday-lectures,  avoiding  the  hours  of  divine  service. 

But  in  the  meantime,  the  outrageous  proceedings  of 
the  party  of  the  students  which  was  opposed  to  him, 
rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  entertain  any  hope  of 
conciliating  them,  and  soon  made  his  residence  at  Jena 
uncomfortable,  and  even  dangerous.  His  wife  was 
insulted  upon  the  public  street,  and  both  his  person 
and  property  subjected  to  repeated  outrages.  He 
applied  to  the  Senate  of  the  University  for  protection, 


108 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


but  was  informed  that  the  treatment  he  received  was 
the  result  of  his  interference  in  the  affairs  of  the  Orders 
upon  the  authority  of  the  State,  and  without  the  coop- 
eration of  the  Senate  ;  that  they  could  do  nothing  more 
than  authorize  self-defence  in  case  of  necessity  ;  and 
that  if  he  desired  more  protection  than  the  Academy 
could  give  him,  he  might  apply  to  his  friends  at  Court. 
At  last,  when  at  the  termination  of  the  winter  session 
an  attack  was  made  upon  his  house  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  in  which  his  venerable  father-in-law  narrowly 
escaped  with  life,  Fichte  applied  to  the  Duke  for  per- 
mission to  leave  Jena.  This  was  granted,  and  he  took 
up  his  residence  during  the  summer  at  the  village  of 
Osmanstadt,  about  two  miles  from  Weimar. 

In  delightful  contrast  to  the  stormy  character  of  his 
public  life  at  this  time,  stands  the  peaceful  simplicity  of 
his  domestic  relations.  In  consequence  of  the  sud- 
denness of  his  removal  from  Zurich,  his  wife  did  not 
accompany  him  at  the  time,  but  joined  him  a  few 
months  afterwards.  And  her  venerable  father,  too, 
had  been  persuaded  by  his  love  for  his  children,  to 
leave  his  native  land,  and  take  up  his  residence  with 
them  at  Jena.  This  excellent  old  man  was  the  object 
of  Fichte's  deepest  respect  and  attachment,  and  his 
declining  years  were  watched  with  all  the  anxiety  of 
filial  tenderness.  He  died  on  the  29th  of*  September, 
1795,  at  the  age  of  76.  His  remains  were  accompa- 
nied to  the  grave  by  Fichte's  pupils,  as  a  mark  of 
respect  for  their  teacher's  grief,  and  a  simple  monu- 
ment records  the  affectionate  reverence  of  those  he  left 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


109 


behind  him.  In  pure  and  unbroken  attachment,  Fichte 
and  his  wife  partook  the  calm  joys  of  domestic  felicity, 
and  at  a  later  period  the  smile  of  childhood  added  a 
new  charm  to  their  home.  A  son  who  was  born  at 
Jena  was  their  only  child.* 

Fichte's  intercourse  with  the  eminent  men  who  adorned 
this  brilliant  period  of  German  literary  history  was  ex- 
tensive and  important.  Preeminent  among  these  stands 
Goethe,  in  many  respects  a  remarkable  contrast  to  the 
philosopher.  The  one,  calm,  sarcastic,  and  oracular  ; 
the  other,  restless,  enthusiastic,  impetuously  eloquent  ; 
—  the  one,  looking  on  men  only  to  scan  and  compre- 
hend them  ;  the  other,  waging  ceaseless  war  with  their 
vices,  their  ignorance,  their  unworthiness  ;  —  the  one, 
seating  himself  on  a  chilling  elevation  above  human  sym- 
pathy, and  even  exerting  all  the  energies  of  his  mighty 
intellect,  to  veil  the  traces  of  every  feeling  which  bound 
him  to  his  fellow-men  ;  the  other,  from  an  eminence 
no  less  exalted,  pouring  around  him  a  rushing  tide 
of  moral  power  over  his  friends,  his  country,  and  the 
world.  To  the  one,  men  looked  up  with  a  painful  and 
hopeless  sense  of  inferiority  ;  they  crowded  around  the 
other  to  participate  in  his  wisdom,  and  to  grow  strong 
in  gazing  on  his  Titanic  might.  And  even  now,  when 
a  common  destiny  has  laid  the  proud  gray  column  in 
the  dust,  and  stayed  the  giant's  arm  from  working,  we 
look  upon  the  majesty  of  the  one  with  astonishment 
rather  than  reverence,  while  at  the  memory  of  the 


Now  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Tubingen. 
9 


no 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


other,  the  pulse  of  hope  beats  more  vigorously  than 
before,  and  the  tear  of  patriotism  falls  heavily  on  his 
grave. 

Goethe  welcomed  the  Wissenschaftslehre  with  his 
usual  avidity  for  new  acquisitions.  The  bold  attempt 
to  infuse  a  living  spirit  into  philosophical  formulas,  and 
give  reality  to  speculative  abstractions,  roused  his  at- 
tention. He  requested  that  it  might  be  sent  to  him, 
sheet  by  sheet,  as  it  went  through  the  press.  This  was 
accordingly  done,  and  the  following  passage  from  a 
letter  to  Fichte  will  show  that  he  was  not  disappointed 
in  the  expectations  he  had  formed  of  it :  — 

14  What  you  have  sent  me  contains  nothing  which  I 
do  not  understand,  or  at  least  believe  that  I  under- 
stand ; — nothing  that  does  not  readily  harmonize  with 
my  accustomed  way  of  thinking  ;  and  I  see  the  hopes 
which  I  had  derived  from  the  introduction  already  ful- 
filled. * 

"  In  my  opinion,  you  will  confer  a  priceless  benefit 
on  the  human  race,  and  make  every  thinking  man  your 
debtor,  by  giving  a  scientific  foundation  to  that  upon 
which  nature  seems  long  ago  to  have  quietly  agreed 
with  herself.  For  myself,  I  shall  owe  you  my  best 
thanks  if  you  reconcile  me  to  the  philosophers,  whom 
I  cannot  do  without,  and  with  whom,  notwithstanding, 
I  never  could  unite. 

"  I  look  with  anxiety  for  the  continuation  of  your 
work  to  adjust  and  confirm  many  things  for  me,  and  I 
hope,  when  you  are  free  from  urgent  engagements,  to 
speak  with  with  you  about  several  matters,  the  prose- 
cution of  which  I  defer  until  I  clearly  understand  how 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


Ill 


that  which  I  hope  to  accomplish  may  harmonize  with 
what  we  have  to  expect  from  you." 

The  persoual  intercourse  of  these  two  great  men 
seems  to  have  been  characterized  by  mutual  respect 
and  esteem,  without  any  approach  to  intimacy.  Of  one 
interview  Fichte  says — u  He  was  politeness,  friendship 
itself;  he  showed  me  unusual  attention."  But  no  cor- 
respondence was  maintained  between  them  after  Fichte 
left  Jena,  in  consequence  of  the  proceedings  which  led 
to  his  departure. 

Of  a  more  enduring  nature  was  his  intimacy  with 
Jacobi.  It  commenced  in  a  literary  correspondence 
soon  after  his  arrival  at  Jena.  Entertaining  a  deep 
respect  for  this  distinguished  man,  derived  solely  from 
the  study  of  his  works,  Fichte  sent  him  a  copy  of  the 
Wissenschaftslehre,  with  a  request  that  he  would  com- 
municate his  opinion  of  the  system  it  contained.  In  a 
long  and  interesting  correspondence,  extending  over 
many  years,  the  points  of  opposition  between  them 
were  canvassed  ;  and  although  a  radical  difference  in 
mental  constitution  prevented  them  from  ever  thinking 
altogether  alike,  yet  it  did  not  prevent  them  from  culti- 
vating a  warm  and  steadfast  friendship,  which  continued 
unbroken  amid  vicissitudes  by  which  other  attachments 
were  sorely  tried. 

Fichte  had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  Schiller  at 
Tubingen,  when  on  his  journey  to  Jena.  Schiller's 
enthusiastic  nature  assimilated  more  closely  to  that  of 
Fichte  than  did  the  disposition  of  the  other  great  poet 
of  Germany,  and  a  cordial  intimacy  sprang  up  between 
them.    Fichte  was  a  contributor  to  the  Horen  from  its 


112 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


commencement  —  a  journal  which  Schiller  began  soon 
after  Fichte's  arrival  at  Jena.  This  gave  rise  to 
a  singular,  but  short-lived  misunderstanding  between 
them.  A  paper,  entitled  u  Briefe  iiber  Geist  und 
Buchstaben  in  der  Philosophic,"  had  been  sent  by 
Fichte  for  insertion  in  the  Horen.  Judging  from  the 
commencement  alone,  Schiller  conceived  it  to  be  an 
imitation,  or  still  worse,  a  parody  of  his  "  Briefe  iiber 
die  iEsthetische  Erziehung  des  Menschen,"  and,  easily 
excited  as  he  was,  demanded  with  some  bitterness  that 
it  should  be  re-written.  Fichte  did  not  justify  himself 
by  producing  the  continuation  of  the  article,  but  re- 
ferred the  accusation  of  parody  to  the  arbitration  of 
Goethe  and  Humboldt.  Schiller  was  convinced  of  his 
error,  and  soon  apologized  for  it,  but  Fichte  did  not 
return  the  essay,  and  it  appeared  afterwards  in  the  Phi- 
losophical Journal.  After  this  slight  misunderstanding, 
they  continued  upon  terms  of  confidence  and  friend- 
ship, and,  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  Schiller  became 
a  zealous  student  of  the  Wissenschaftslehre. 

Fichte  likewise  carried  on  an  extensive  correspon- 
dence with  Reinhold  (who  has  already  been  men- 
tioned), Schelling,  W.  von  Humboldt,  Schaumann, 
Paulus,  Schmidt,  the  Schlegels,  Novalis,  Tieck,  Wolt- 
mann,  besides  a  host  of  minor  writers,  so  that  his  influ- 
ence extended  throughout  the  whole  literary  world  of 
Germany  at  that  period. 

Fichte  has  been  accused  of  asperity  and  superci- 
liousness towards  his  literary  opponents.  It  may  easily 
be  conceived,  that,  occupying  a  point  of  view  altogether 
different  from  theirs,  his  philosophy  should  appear  to 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


113 


him  entirely  untouched  by  objections  to  which  they 
attached  great  weight.  Nor  is  it  surprising  that  he 
should  choose  rather  to  proceed  with  the  development 
of  his  own  system  from  his  own  principles,  than  to 
place  himself  in  the  mental  position  of  other  men,  and 
combat  their  arguments  upon  their  own  grounds.  Those 
very  grounds  were  the  essential  cause  of  their  differ- 
ence. Those  who  could  take  their  stand  beside  him 
would  see  the  matter  as  he  saw  it ;  those  who  could 
not  do  this  must  remain  where  they  were.  Claiming 
for  his  system  the  certainty  of  mathematical  demon- 
stration—  asserting  that  with  him  philosophy  was  no 
longer  mere  speculation,  but  had  now  become  knoio- 
ledge,  he  could  not  bend  or  accommodate  himself  or 
his  doctrines  to  the  prejudices  of  others  ;  —  they  must 
come  to  him,  not  he  to  them.  "  My  philosophy,"  he 
says  "  is  nothing  to  Herr  Schmidt,  from  incapacity  ; 
his  is  nothing  to  me  from  insight.  From  this  time 
forth,  I  look  upon  all  that  Herr  Schmidt  may  say, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  about  my  philosophy,  as 
something  which,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  has  no 
meaning,  and  upon  Herr  Schmidt  himself  as  a  philoso- 
pher who,  in  relation  to  me,  is  non-existent."  That 
in  such  disputes  Fichte  should  express  himself  strongly 
is  not  surprising.  Even  if  an  excuse  could  not  be 
found  for  it  in  the  abuse  and  persecution  with  which  he 
was  constantly  assailed,  it  might  be  expected  from  his 
very  nature.  He  spoke  strongly,  because  he  thought 
and  felt  deeply.  He  was  the  servant  of  truth,  and  it 
was  not  for  him  to  mince  his  language  towards  her 
opponents.  But  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  on  these 
9* 


114 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


occasions  he  was  never  the  assailant.  In  answer  to 
some  of  Reinhold's  expostulations  he  writes  thus  : 
"  You  say  that  my  tone  touches  and  wounds  persons 
who  do  not  deserve  it.  That  I  sincerely  regret.  But 
they  must  deserve  it  in  some  degree,  if  they  will  not 
permit  one  to  tell  them  honestly  of  the  errors  in  which 
they  wander,  and  are  not  willing  to  suffer  a  slight  shame 
for  the  sake  of  great  instruction.  With  him  to  whom 
truth  is  not  above  all  other  things,  —  above  his  own 
petty  personality  —  the  Wissenschaftslehre  can  have 
nothing  to  do.  The  internal  reason  of  the  tone  which 
I  adopt  is  this  :  —  It  fills  me  with  scorn  which  I  cannot 
describe,  when  I  look  upon  the  present  want  of  any 
truthfulness  of  vision,  on  the  deep  darkness,  entangle- 
ment, and  perversion,  which  now  prevail.  The  external 
reason  is  this  :  —  How  have  these  men  (the  Kantists) 
treated  me  ?  —  how  do  they  continue  to  treat  me  ?  — 
There  is  nothing  that  I  have  less  pleasure  in  than  con- 
troversy. Why  then  can  they  not  be  at  peace  ?  — 
For  example,  friend  Schmidt  ?  I  have  indeed  not 
handled  him  tenderly  ;  —  but  every  just  person  who 
knew  much  that  is  not  before  the  public,  would  give  me 
credit  for  the  mildness  of  an  angel.  "* 

"  The  following  amusing  passage,  from  the  commencement  of 
an  anonymous  publication  on  this  controversy,  may  serve  to  show 
the  kind  of  reputation  which  Fichte  had  acquired  among  his  op- 
ponents :  — 

"After  the  anathemas  which  the  dreadful  Fichte  has  hurled 
from  the  height  of  his  philosophic  throne  upon  the  ant-hills  of  the 
Kantists;  looking  at  the  stigma  forever  branded  on  the  foreheads 
of  these  unhappy  creatures,  which  must  compel  them  to  hide  their 
existence  from  the  eye  of  an  astonished  public;  amid  the  general 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


115 


The  true  nature  of  Fichte's  controversialism  is  well 
exhibited  in  a  short  correspondence  with  Jakob,  the 
Professor  of  Philosophy  at  Halle.  Jakob  was  editor 
of  the  "Annalender  Philosophic, "  the  chief  organ  of 
the  Kantists  —  a  journal  which  had  distinguished  itself 
by  the  most  uncompromising  attacks  upon  the  Wissen- 
schaftslehre.  Fichte  had  replied  in  the  Philosophical 
Journal  in  his  usual  style.  Sometime  afterwards  Jakob, 
who  was  personally  unknown  to  Fichte,  addressed  a 
letter  to  him,  full  of  the  most  noble  and  generous  sen- 
timents, desiring  that,  although  opposed  to  each  other 
in  principle,  all  animosity  between  them  might  cease. 
The  following  passages  are  extracted  from  Fichte's 
reply  :  — 

jFfdjte  to  Saftofc. 
"  I  have  never  hated  you,  nor  believed  that  you  hated 
me.  It  may  sound  presumptuous,  but  it  is  true,  —  that 
I  do  not  know  properly  what  hate  is,  for  I  have  never 
hated  anyone.  And  I  am  by  no  means  so  passionate 
as  I  am  commonly  said  to  be.  .  .  .  That  my  Wissen- 
schaftslehre  was  not  understood,  —  that  it  is  even  now 
not  understood  (for  it  is  supposed  that  I  now  teach 

fear  and  trembling  which,  spreading  over  all  philosophic  sects, 
casts  them  to  the  earth  before  the  thunder-tread  of  this  destroying 
god,  —  who  dare  now  avow  himself  a  Kantist  ?  I  dare  —  one  of 
the  most  insignificant  creatures  ever  dropped  from  the  hand  of 
fate.  In  the  deep  darkness  which  surrounds  me,  and  which  hides 
me  from  every  eye  in  Germany  —  even  from  the  eagle-glance  of 
a  Fichte  ;  from  this  quiet  retreat,  every  attempt  to  break  in  upon 
the  security  of  which  is  ridiculous  in  the  extreme,  —  from  here  I 
may  venture  to  raise  my  voice,  and  cry,  J  am  a  Kantist !  —  and  to 
Fichte  —  Thou  canst  err,  and  thou  hast  erred,"  &c,  &c. 


116 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


other  doctrines),  I  freely  believe;  —  that  it  was  not 
understood,  on  account  of  my  mode  of  propounding  it, 
in  a  book  which  was  not  designed  for  the  public,  but 
for  my  own  students  ;  that  no  trust  was  reposed  in  me, 
but  that  I  was  looked  upon  as  a  babbler,  whose  inter- 
ference in  the  affairs  of  philosophy  might  do  hurt  to 
science  ;  that  it  was  therefore  concluded  that  the  sys- 
tem which  men  knew  well  enough  that  they  did  not 
understand,  was  a  worthless  system,  —  all  this  I  know 
and  can  comprehend.  But  it  is  surely  to  be  expected 
from  every  scholar  —  not  that  he  should  understand 
everything,  —  but  that  he  should  at  least  know  whether 
he  does  understand  a  subject  or  not  ;  and  of  every 
honest  man,  that  he  should  not  pass  judgment  on  any- 
thing before  he  is  conscious  of  understanding  it. 
Dear  Jakob  !  I  have  unlimited  reverence  for  openness 
and  uprightness  of  character.  1  had  heard  a  high  char- 
acter of  you,  and  I  would  never  have  suffered  myself 
to  pronounce  such  a  judgment  on  your  literary  merit, 
had  I  not  been  afterwards  led  to  entertain  an  opposite 
impression.  Now,  however,  by  the  impartiality  of  your 
judgment  upon  me  —  by  the  warm  interest  you  take  in 
me  as  a  member  of  the  republic  of  letters,*  —  by  your 
open  testimony  in  my  behalf,  you  have  completely  won 
my  personal  esteem.  It  shall  not  be  my  fault —  (allow 
me  to  say  this  without  offence)  — if  you  do  not  also 
possess  my  entire  esteem  as  an  author,  publicly  ex- 
pressed.   I  have  shown  B  and  E  that  I  can 

do  justice  even  to  an  antagonist." 


*  Jakob  had  espoused  his  cause  in  an  important  dispute,  of  which 
we  shall  soon  have  to  treat. 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


117 


Jakob's  reply  is  that  of  a  generous  opponent  :  — 
"  Your  answer,  much  esteemed  Professor,  has  been 
most  acceptable  to  me.  In  it  I  have  found  the  man 
whom  I  wished  to  find.  The  differences  between  us 
shall  be  erased  from  our  memory.  Not  a  word  of  sat- 
isfaction to  me.  If  anything  that  I  do  or  write  shall 
have  the  good  fortune  to  meet  your  free  and  unpur- 
chased approbation,  and  you  find  it  good  to  communi- 
cate your  opinion  to  the  public,  it  will  be  gratifying  to 
me  ;  —  for  what  joy  have  people  of  our  kind  in  public 
life,  that  is  not  connected  with  the  approbation  of  esti- 
mable men  ?  But  I  shall  accept  your  candid  refutation 
as  an  equally  sure  mark  of  your  esteem,  and  joyfully 
profit  by  it.  Confutation  without  bitterness  is  never 
unacceptable  to  me." 

Gradually  disengaging  himself  from  outward  causes 
of  disturbance,  Fichte  now  sought  to  devote  himself 
more  exclusively  to  literary  exertion,  in  order  to  em- 
body his  philosophy  in  a  more  enduring  form  than  that 
of  oral  discourses.  In  1795  he  became  joint-editor  of 
the  Philosophical  Journal,  which  had  for  some  years 
been  conducted  by  his  friend  and  colleague  Nietham- 
mer.  His  contributions  to  it  form  a  most  important 
part  of  his  works,  and  are  devoted  to  the  scientific  de- 
velopment of  his  system.  In  1796  appeared  his 
"Doctrine  of  Law,"  and  in  1798  his  u  Doctrine  of 
Morals,"  —  separate  parts  of  the  application  which  he 
purposed  to  make  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  the 
Wissenschaftslehre  to  the  complete  circle  of  knowl- 
edge.   But  this  period  of  literary  tranquillity  was  des- 


118 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


tined  to  be  of  short  duration,  for  a  storm  soon  burst 
upon  him  more  violent  than  any  he  had  hitherto  en- 
countered, which  once  more  drove  him  for  a  long  time 
from  the  path  of  peaceful  inquiry  into  the  angry  field 
of  polemical  discussion. 

Atheism  is  a  charge  which  the  common  understanding 
has  repeatedly  brought  against  the  finer  speculations  of 
philosophy,  when,  in  endeavoring  to  solve  the  riddle  of 
existence,  they  have  approached,  albeit  with  reverence 
and  humility,  the  Ineffable  Source  from  which  all  ex- 
istence proceeds.  Shrouded  from  human  comprehen- 
sion in  an  obscurity  from  which  chastened  imagination 
is  awed  back,  and  thought  retreats  in  conscious  weak- 
ness, —  the  Divine  Nature  is  surely  a  theme  on  which 
man  is  little  entitled  to  dogmatize.  Accordingly,  it  is 
here  that  the  philosophic  intellect  becomes  most  pain- 
fully aware  of  its  own  insufficiency.  It  feels  that 
silence  is  the  most  fitting  attitude  of  the  finite  being 
towards  its  Infinite  and  Incomprehensible  Original,  and 
that  when  it  is  needful  that  thought  should  shape  itself 
into  words,  they  should  be  those  of  diffidence  and  mod- 
est self-distrust.  But  the  common  understanding  has 
no  such  humility  ; — its  God  in  an  Incarnate  Divinity  ; — 
imperfection  imposes  its  own  limitations  on  the  Illimita- 
ble, and  clothes  the  inconceivable  Spirit  of  the  Uni- 
verse in  sensuous  and  intelligible  forms  derived  from 
finite  nature.  In  the  world's  childhood  —  when  the 
monstrous  forms  of  earth  were  looked  upon  as  the  visi- 
ble manifestations  of  Deity,  or  the  viewless  essences  of 
nature  were  imagined  to  contain  his  presence  ;  —  in  the 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


119 


world's  youth-    when  stream  and  forest,  hill  and  val- 
ley, earth  and  ocean,  were  peopled  with  divinities, 
graceful  or  grotesque,  kind  or  malevolent,  pure  or  pol 
luted  ;  —  in  the  world's  ages  of  toil — when  the  crushed 
soul  of  the  slave  looked  to  his  God  for  human  sympa- 
thy, and  sometimes  fancied  that  he  encountered  worse 
than  human  oppression  ;  —  in  all  ages,  men  have  col- 
ored the  brightness  of  Infinity  with  hues  derived  from 
their  own  hopes  and  fears,  joys  and  sorrows,  virtues 
and  crimes.    And  he  who  felt  that  the  Eidolon  of  the 
age  was  an  inadequate  representative  of  his  own  deeper 
thoughts  of  God,  had  need  to  place  his  hopes  of  jus- 
tice in  futurity,  and  make  up  his  mind  to  be  despised 
and  rejected  by  the  men  of  his  own  day.  Socrates 
drank  the  poisoned  cup  because  his  conceptions  of 
divine  things  surpassed  the  mythology  of  Greece  ; 
Christ  endured  the  cross  at  the  hands  of  the  Jews  for 
having  told  them  the  truth,  which  he  had  heard  from  the 
Father  ;  Paul  suffered  persecution,  indignity,  and  death, 
for  he  was  a  setter  forth  of  strange  Gods.  Modern 
times  have  not  been  without  their  martyrs.  Descartes 
died  in  a  foreign  land  for  his  bold  thought  and  open 
speech  ;   Spinoza  —  the  brave,  kind-hearted,  incor- 
ruptible Spinoza  —  was  the  object  both  of  Jewish  and 
Christian  anathema.   From  our  own  land  Priestley  was 
banished  by  popular  fanaticism,  and  in  our  own  days 
legalized  bigotry  tore  asunder  the  sacred  bonds  which 
united  one  of  the  purest  and  most  sensitive  of  living 
beings  to  his  offspring — the  gentle,  imaginative,  deeply- 
religious  Shelley  was  an  "atheist!"    And  so,  too, 
Fichte  —  whose  ardent  love  of  freedom  made  him  an 


120 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


object  of  distrust  and  fear  to  timorous  statesmen,  and 
whose  daring  speculations  struck  dismay  into  the  souls 
of  creed-bound  theologians  —  found  himself  assailed  at 
once  by  religious  and  political  persecution.  But  in  him 
tyranny  once  more  found  a  man  who  had  the  courage 
to  oppose  himself,  alone  and  unfriended,  against  its 
hate,  and  whose  steadfast  devotion  to  truth  remained 
unshaken  amid  all  the  dangers  and  difficulties  which 
gathered  round  his  way. 

Fichte's  theory  of  God  has  already  been  spoken  of 
in  a  general  way.  It  was  the  necessary  result  of  his 
speculative  position.  The  consciousness  of  the  indi- 
vidual reveals  itself  alone  ;  his  knowledge  cannot  pass 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  being.  His  conceptions 
of  other  things  and  other  beings  are  only  his  concep- 
tions, —  they  are  not  those  things  or  beings  themselves. 
From  this  point  of  view  the  common  logical  arguments 
for  the  existence  of  God,  and  in  particular  what  is 
called  the  "  argument  from  design"  supposed  to  exist 
in  the  material  world,  entirely  disappears.  Only  from 
our  idea  of  beauty,  and  our  faith  in  the  inevitable  con- 
sequences of  moral  action,  arises  the  belief  in  a  prin- 
ciple of  moral  order  in  the  world  ;  —  and  this  principle 
is  God.  But  this  living  principle  of  a  living  universe 
must  be  infinite  ;  while  all  our  ideas  and  conceptions 
are  finite,  and  applicable  only  to  finite  beings,  not  to 
the  Infinite.  Even  consciousness  and  personality  are 
the  attributes  of  relative  and  limited  beings  ;  and  to  ap- 
ply these  to  God,  is  to  bring  Him  down  to  the  rank  of 
relative  and  limited  being.  The  Deity  is  thus  not  an 
object  of  knowledge,  but  of  faith,  —  not  to  be  ap- 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE 


121 


proached  by  the  understanding,  but  by  the  moral  sense 
— not  to  be  conceived  of,  but  to  be  felt.  All  attempts  to 
embrace  the  infinite  in  the  conception  of  the  finite,  are, 
and  must  be,  only  accommodations  to  the  frailties  of 
man. 

The  Philosophical  Journal  for  1798  contained  an 
essay  by  Forberg  "  On  the  definition  of  the  Idea  of 
Religion."  Fichte  found  the  principles  of  this  essay 
not  so  much  opposed  to  his  own,  as  only  imperfect  in 
themselves,  and  deemed  it  necessary  to  prefix  to  it  a 
paper  "  On  the  grounds  of  our  faith  in  a  Divine  Gov- 
ernment of  the  world."  In  this  article,  after  pointing 
out  the  imperfections  and  merely  human  qualities  which 
are  attributed  to  the  Deity  in  the  common  conceptions 
of  His  being,  and  which  necessarily  flow  from  the 
"  cause  and  effect  "  argument  in  its  ordinary  applica- 
tions, he  proceeds  to  state  the  true  grounds  of  our  faith 
in  a  moral  government  or  moral  order  in  the  universe, — 
not  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  faith  by  proof,  but  to 
show  the  springs  of  a  faith  already  present  in  man,  and 
indestructibly  rooted  in  his  nature  The  business  of 
philosophy  is  not  to  create,  but  to  explain  ;  the  faith  in 
the  divine  exists  without  the  aid  of  philosophy,  —  it  is 
hers  only  to  investigate  its  origin,  not  for  the  conversion 
of  the  infidel,  but  to  explain  the  conviction  of  the  be- 
liever. The  sources  from  which  he  draws  that  faith 
have  been  noticed  already  in  a  previous  part  of  this 
memoir,  and  need  not  be  repeated  here.  The  general 
results  of  the  essay  may  be  gathered  from  the  con- 
cluding passage  :  — 

"  Hence  it  is  an  error  to  say  that  it  is  doubtful 
10 


122 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


whether  or  not  there  is  a  God.  It  is  not  doubtful,  but 
the  most  certain  of  all  certainties,  —  nay,  the  founda- 
tion of  all  other  certainties  —  the  one  absolutely  valid 
objective  truth,  —  that  there  is  a  moral  order  in  the 
world  ;  that  to  every  rational  being  is  assigned  his  par- 
ticular place  in  that  order,  and  the  work  which  he  has 
to  do  ;  that  his  destiny,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  occasioned 
by  his  own  conduct,  is  the  result  of  this  plan  ;  that  in 
no  other  way  can  even  a  hair  fall  from  his  head,  nor  a 
sparrow  fall  to  the  ground  around  him  ;  that  every  true 
and  good  action  prospers,  and  every  bad  action  fails  ; 
and  that  all  things  must  work  together  for  good  to  those 
who  truly  love  goodness.  On  the  other  hand,  no  one 
who  reflects  a  moment,  and  honestly  avows  the  result  of 
his  reflection,  can  remain  in  doubt  that  the  conception 
of  God  as  a  particular  substance  is  impossible  and  con- 
tradictory: and  it  is  right  candidly  to  say  this,  and  to  si- 
lence the  babbling  of  the  schools,  in  order  that  the  true 
religion  of  cheerful  virtue  may  be  established  in  its  room. 

"  Two  great  poets  have  expressed  this  faith  of  good 
and  thinking  men  with  inimitable  beauty.  Such  an  one 
may  adopt  their  language  :  — 

"  «  Who  dares  to  say, 
,{  I  believe  in  God  "  ? 

Who  dares  to  name  him  —  [seek  ideas  and  words  jor  him.] 

And  to  profess, 

"  I  believe  in  him  "  ? 

Who  can  feel, 

And  yet  affirm, 

M  I  believe  him  not  "  ? 

The  AU-Embracer,  —  [when  he  is  approached  through  the 
moral  sense,  not  through  theoretical  speculation,  and 
the  world  is  looked  upon  as  the  scene  of  living  moral 
activity.] 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


123 


The  All-Sustainer, 

Does  he  not  embrace,  support, 

Thee,  me,  himself  ? 

Does  not  the  vault  of  heaven  arch  o'er  us  there  ? 

Does  not  the  earth  lie  firmly  here  below? 

And  do  not  the  eternal  stars 

Rise  on  us  with  their  friendly  beams  ? 

Do  I  not  see  my  image  in  thine  eyes? 

And  does  not  the  All 

Press  on  thy  head  and  heart, 

And  weave  itself  around  thee,  visibly  and  invisibly, 

In  eternal  mystery? 

Fill  thy  heart  with  it  till  it  overflow  ; 

And  in  the  feeling,  when  thou'rt  wholly  blest, 

Then  call  it  what  thou  wilt, — 

Happiness  !  Heart !  Love  !  God  ! 

I  have  no  name  for  it : 

Feeling  is  all  j  name  is  but  sound  and  smoke, 
Veiling  the  glow  of  heaven.'* 

"  And  the  second  sings  — 

"  1  And  God  is  !  —  a  holy  Will  that  abides, 

Though  the  human  will  may  falter; 
High  over  both  Space  and  Time  it  rides, 

The  high  thought  that  will  never  alter  : 
And  while  all  things  in  change  eternal  roll, 
It  endures,  through  change,  a  motionless  soul.'  "  t 

The  publication  of  this  essay  furnished  a  welcome 
opportunity  to  those  Princes,  to  whom  Fichte  was 
obnoxious  on  account  of  his  democratic  opinions,  to 
institute  public  proceedings  against  him.    The  note 


*  Goethe's  "  Faust." 
t  The  above  stanza  of  Schiller's  "  Worte  des  Glaubens"  is 
taken  from  Mr.  Merivale's  excellent  translation. 


124 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


was  sounded  by  the  publication  of  an  anonymous  pamph- 
let, entitled  "  Letters  of  a  Father  to  his  Son  on  the 
Atheism  of  Fichte  and  Forberg,"  which  was  industri- 
ously and  even  gratuitously  circulated  throughout  Ger- 
many. The  first  official  proceeding  was  a  decree  of 
the  Electoral  Government,  prohibiting  the  sale  of  the 
Philosophical  Journal,  and  confiscating  all  copies  of  it 
found  in  the  electorate.  This  was  followed  up  by  a 
requisition  addressed  to  the  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar,  as 
the  Conservator  of  the  University  of  Jena,  in  which 
Fichte  and  Forberg  were  accused  of  "  the  coarsest 
atheism,  openly  opposed  not  only  to  the  Christian,  but 
even  to  natural,  religion  ;  "  —  and  their  severe  punish- 
ment was  demanded  ;  failing  which,  it  was  threatened 
that  the  subjects  of  the  Elector  should  be  prohibited 
from  resorting  to  the  University.  These  proceedings 
were  imitated  by  the  other  Protestant  Courts  of  Ger- 
many, that  of  Prussia  excepted. 

In  answer  to  the  official  condemnation  of  his  essay, 
Fichte  sent  forth  his  "  Appeal  to  the  Public  against 
the  accusation  of  Atheism,"  Jena,  1799  ;  —  in  which, 
with  his  accustomed  boldness,  he  does  not  confine  him- 
self to  the  strict  limits  of  self-defence,  but  exposes  with 
no  lenient  hand  the  true  cause  which  rendered  him  ob- 
noxious to  the  Electoral  Government  —  not  the  atheism 
of  which  he  was  so  absurdly  accused,  but  the  spirit  of 
freedom  and  independence  which  his  philosophy  incul- 
cated. He  did  not  desire,  he  would  not  accept  of  any 
compromise  ;  —  he  demanded  a  free  acquittal  or  a  pub- 
lic condemnation.  He  adopted  the  same  high  tone  in 
his  defence  before  his  own  Government.    The  Court 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


125 


of  Weimar  had  no  desire  to  restrain  the  liberty  of 
thought,  or  to  erect  any  barrier  against  free  speculation. 
It  was  too  wise  not  to  perceive  that  a  Protestant  Uni- 
versity in  which  secular  power  should  dare  to  invade 
the  precincts  of  philosophy  or  profane  the  highest  sanc- 
tuaries of  thought,  however  great  its  reputation  for  the 
moment,  must  infallibly  sink  from  being  a  temple  of 
knowledge  into  a  warehouse  for  the  sale  of  literary, 
medical  or  theological  merchandise  —  a  school-room  for 
artisans  —  a  drill-yard  for  hirelings.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  was  no  part  of  the  policy  of  the  Court  of  Wei- 
mar to  give  offence  to  its  more  powerful  neighbors,  or 
to  enter  upon  a  crusade  in  defence  of  opinions  obnox- 
ious to  the  masses,  because  unintelligible  to  them.  It 
was  therefore  intended  to  pass  over  this  matter  as 
smoothly  as  possible,  and  to  satisfy  the  complaining 
governments  by  administering  to  Fitchte  a  general 
rebuke  for  imprudence  in  promulgating  his  views  in 
language  liable  to  popular  misconstruction.  The  ap- 
pearance of  his  "  Appeal  to  the  Public,"  however, 
rendered  this  arrangement  less  easy  of  accomplishment. 
The  opinion  of  the  Government  with  respect  to  this 
publication  was  communicated  to  Fichte  in  a  letter 
from  Schiller,  —  u  that  there  was  no  doubt  that  he  had 
cleared  himself  of  the  accusation  before  every  thinking 
mind  ;  but  that  it  was  surprising  that  he  had  not  con- 
sulted with  higher  quarters  before  he  sent  forth  his  ap- 
peal :  why  appeal  to  the  public  at  all,  when  he  had  only 
to  do  with  a  favorable  and  enlightened  Government  ?  " 
The  obvious  answer  to  which  was,  that  the  "  Appeal 
to  the  Public  "  was  a  reply  to  the  public  confiscation 
10* 


126 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


of  his  work,  while  the  private  accusation  before  his 
Prince  was  answered  by  a  private  defence.  In  that 
defence  the  Court  found  that  the  accused  was  determin- 
ed to  push  the  investigation  as  far  as  his  accusers  could 
desire,  —  that  he  demanded  either  an  honorable  and 
unreserved  acquittal,  or  deposition  from  his  office,  as  a 
false  teacher.  A  further  breach  between  the  Court 
and  Fichte  was  caused  by  a  letter  which,  in  the  course 
of  these  proceedings,  he  addressed  to  a  member  of  the 
Council — his  private  friend  —  in  which  he  announced 
that  a  resignation  of  his  professorship  would  be  the 
result  of  any  reproof  on  the  part  of  the  Government. 
This  letter,  addressed  to  an  individual  in  his  private 
capacity,  was  most  unjustifiably  placed  among  the 
official  documents  connected  with  the  proceedings.  Its 
tone,  excusable  perhaps  in  a  private  communication, 
seemed  presumptuous  and  arrogant  when  addressed  to 
the  supreme  authority  —  it  was  the  haughty  defiance  of 
an  equal,  rather  than  the  remonstrance  of  a  subject. 
This  abuse  of  a  private  letter  —  this  betrayal  of  the 
confidence  of  friendship  —  cost  Jena  its  most  distin- 
guished professor.  On  the  2d  of  April,  1799,  Fichte 
received  the  decision  of  the  Ducal  Court.  It  contained 
a  reproof  for  imprudence  in  promulgating  doctrines  so 
unusual  and  so  offensive  to  the  common  understanding, 
and  accepted  of  Fichte's  resignation  as  a  recognized 
consequence  of  that  reproof.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that 
the  policy  of  the  government  and  the  faults  of  individu- 
als, prevented  in  this  instance  the  formal  recognition  of 
the  great  principle  involved  in  the  contest,  i.  e.  that 
civil  governments  have  no  right  to  restrain  the  expres- 


MEMOIR  OF  F1CHTE. 


127 


sion  of  any  theoretical  opinion  propounded  in  a  scientific 
form  and  addressed  to  the  scientific  world. 

In  strong  contrast  to  the  feelings  of  the  populace, 
stands  the  enthusiastic  attachment  evinced  towards 
Fichte  by  the  students.  Two  numerously  signed  peti- 
tions were  presented  to  the  Duke,  praying  for  his  recall. 
These  having  proved  unavailing,  they  caused  a  medal- 
lion of  their  beloved  teacher  to  be  struck,  in  testimony 
of  their  admiration  and  esteem. 

Fichte's  position  was  now  one  of  the  most  difficult 
which  can  well  be  imagined.  A  prolonged  residence 
at  Jena  was  out  of  the  question,  —  he  could  no  longer 
remain  there.  But  where  to  turn  ?  —  where  to  seek  an 
asylum  ?  No  neighboring  state  would  afford  him  shel- 
ter ;  even  the  privilege  of  a  private  residence  was  re- 
fused. At  length  a  friend  appeared  in  the  person  of 
Dohm,  Minister  to  the  King  of  Prussia.  Through 
him  Fichte  applied  to  Frederick-William  for  permission 
to  reside  in  his  dominions,  with  a  view  of  earning  a 
livelihood  by  literary  exertion  and  private  teaching. 
The  answer  of  the  Prussian  monarch  was  worthy  of 
his  high  character:  —  "  If,"  said  he,  "Fichte  is  so 
peaceful  a  citizen,  and  so  free  from  all  dangerous  asso- 
ciations as  he  is  said  to  be,  I  willingly  accord  him  a 
residence  in  my  dominions.  As  to  his  religious  prin- 
ciples, it  is  not  for  the  state  to  decide  upon  them."  * 


*  The  original  phraseology  of  this  last  passage  is  peculiarly 
characteristic:  —  "1st  es  wahr,  class  er  mit  dem  lieben  Gotte  in 
Feindseligkeiten  begriffen  ist ;  so  mag  dies  der  liebe  Gott  mit  ihm 
abmachen  ;  mirlhutdas  nichts." 


128 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


Fichte  arrived  in  Prussia  in  July,  1799,  and  devoted 
the  summer  and  autumn  to  the  completion  of  his 
"  Bestimmung  des  Menschen."  Towards  the  end  of 
the  year  he  returned  to  Jena  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
moving his  family  to  Berlin,  where,  henceforward,  he 
fixed  his  place  of  residence.  The  following  extracts 
are  from  letters  written  to  his  wife  during  their  tempo- 
rary separation  :  — 

jFtc|)te  an  Srtner  jfrau. 
"You  probably  wish  to  know  how  I  live.  For  many 
reasons,  the  weightiest  of  which  lie  in  myself  and  in  my 
cough,  1  cannot  keep  up  the  early  rising.  Six  O'clock 
is  generally  my  earliest.  I  go  then  to  my  writing  desk, 
so  that  I  am  not  altogether  idle,  although  I  do  not  get 
on  as  I  could  wish.  I  am  now  working  at  the  Bestim- 
mung des  Menschen.  At  half-past  twelve  I  hold  my 
toilet  (yes  ! — get  powdered,  dressed,  &c  ),  and  at  one 
I  call  on  M.  Veit,  where  I  meet  Schlegel  and  a  re- 
formed preacher,  Schlegel's  friend."  *  At  three  I 
come  back,  and  read  a  French  novel,  or  write,  as  1  do 
now  to  you.  If  the  piece  is  at  all  tolerable,  which  is 
not  always  the  case,  I  go  to  the  theatre  at  five.  If  it 
is  not,  I  walk  with  Schlegel  in  the  suburbs,  in  the 
zoological  gardens,  or  under  the  linden  trees  before  the 
house.  Sometimes  I  make  small  country  parties  with 
Schlegel  and  his  friends.  So  we  did,  for  example,  the 
day  before  yesterday,  with  the  most  lively  remembrance 
of  thee  and  the  little  one.  We  had  no  wine  to  drink 
your  health,  —  only  sour  beer,  and  a  slice  of  black, 


Schleiermachcr. 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


129 


bitter  bread,  with  a  thin  bit  of  half-decayed  ham  stuck 
upon  it  with  dirty  butter.    Politeness  makes  me  put  up 
with  many  things  here  which  are  scarcely  tolerable 
But  I  have  thought  of  a  better  method  for  country  par- 
ties. 

"  In  the  evening  I  sup  on  a  roll  of  bread  and  a  quart 
of  Medoc  wine,  which  are  the  only  tolerable  things  in 
the  house  ;  and  go  to  bed  between  ten  and  eleven,  to 
sleep  without  dreaming.  Only  once —  it  was  after  thy 
first  alarming  letter —  I  had  my  Hermann  in  my  arms, 
full  of  joy  that  he  was  well  again,  when  suddenly  he 
stretched  himself  out,  turned  pale,  and  all  those  ap- 
pearances followed  which  are  indelibly  imprinted  on  my 
memory. 

M  I  charge  thee,  dearest,  with  thy  own  health  and  the 
health  of  the  little  one.  —  Farewell." 

#  #  #  #  # 

u  I  am  perfectly  secure  here.  Yesterday  I  visited 
the  Cabinet  Councillor  Beyme,  who  is  daily  engaged 
with  the  King,  and  spoke  to  him  about  my  position.  I 
told  him  honestly  that  I  had  come  here  in  order  to  take 
up  my  abode,  and  that  I  sought  for  safely,  because  it 
was  my  intention  that  my  family  should  follow  me.  He 
assured  me,  that  far  from  there  being  any  desire  to  hin- 
der me  in  this  purpose,  it  would  be  esteemed  an  honor 
and  advantage  if  I  made  my  residence  here,  —  that  the 
King  was  immovable  upon  certain  principles  affecting 
these  questions,  &c." 

u  I  wrork  with  industry  and  pleasure.  My  work  on 
the  8  Destiny  of  Man/  will,  I  think,  be  ready  at 


130 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


Michaelmas —  written,  not  printed,  —  and  it  seems  to 
me  likely  to  succeed.  You  know  that  I  am  never  sat- 
isfied with  my  works  when  they  are  first  written,  and 
therefore  that  my  own  opinion  on  this  point  is  worth 
something  By  my  residence  in  Ber- 
lin I  have  gained  this  much,  that  I  shall  henceforth  be 
allowed  to  live  in  peace  elsewhere  ;  —  and  this  is  much. 
I  venture  to  say  that  I  should  have  been  teazed  and 
perhaps  hunted  out  of  any  other  place.  But  it  is  quite 
another  thing  now  that  I  have  lived  in  Berlin  under  the 
eye  of  the  King.  By  and  by  I  think  even  the  Weimar 
Court  will  learn  to  be  ashamed  of  its  conduct,  espec- 
ially if  1  make  no  advances  to  it.  In  the  meantime 
something  advantageous  may  happen.  So  be  thou 
calm  and  of  good  courage,  dear  one,  and  trust  in  thy 
Fichte's  judgment,  talent,  and  good  fortune.  Thou 
laughst  at  the  last  word.  Well,  well  !  —  I  assure  you 
that  good  fortune  will  soon  come  back  again." 

■¥r  4t* 

"  I  have  written  to  Reinhold  a  cold,  somewhat  up- 
braiding letter.  The  good  weak  soul  is  full  of  lamen- 
tations. I  shall  immediately  comfort  him  again,  and 
take  care  that  he  is  not  alienated  from  me  in  future.  If 
I  was  beside  thee,  thou  wouldst  say  —  '  Dost  thou 
hear,  Fichte  ?  thou  art  proud — I  must  tell  it  thee,  if 
no  one  else  can.'  Very  well,  be  thou  glad  that  I  am 
proud.  Since  I  have  no  humility,  I  must  be  proud,  so 
that  I  may  have  something  to  carry  me  through  the 
world." 

#  #  #  #  # 

"  Of  all  that  thou  writest  to  me,  I  am  most  dissatis- 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


131 


fied  with  this,  that  thou  callest  our  Hermann  an  ill-bred 
boy.  No  greater  misfortune  could  befall  me  on  earth 
than  that  this  child  should  be  spoiled  ;  and  I  would 
lament  my  absence  from  Jena  only  if  it  should  be  the 
cause  of  that.  I  adjure  thee  by  thy  maternal  duties,  by 
thy  love  to  me,  by  all  that  is  holy  to  thee,  let  this  child 
be  thy  first  and  only  care,  and  leave  everything  else  for 
him.  Thou  art  deficient  in  firmness  and  coolness  ;  — 
hence  all  thy  errors  in  the  education  of  the  little  one. 
Teach  him  that  when  thou  hast  once  denied  him  any- 
thing, it  is  determined  and  irrevocable,  and  that  neither 
petulance  nor  the  most  urgent  entreaties  will  be  of  any 
avail  : — once  fail  in  this,  and  you  have  an  ill-taught, 
obstinate  boy,  particularly  with  the  natural  disposition 
to  strength  of  character  which  our  little  one  possesses  ; 
and  it  costs  a  hundred  times  more  labor  to  set  him  right 
again.  For  indeed  it  should  be  our  first  care,  not  to 
let  his  character  be  spoiled  ;  —  and  believe  me,  there 
is  in  him  the  capacity  of  being  a  wild  knave,  as  well  as 
that  of  being  an  honest,  true,  virtuous  man.  In  par- 
ticular, do  not  suppose  that  he  will  be  led  by  persuasion 
and  reasoning.  The  most  intelligent  men  err  in  this, 
and  thou  also  in  the  same  way.  He  cannot  think  for 
himself  yet,  nor  will  he  be  able  to  do  so  for  a  long 
time;  —  at  present,  the  first  thing  is  that  he  should 
learn  obedience  and  subjection  to  a  foreign  mind. 
Thou  mayst  indeed  sometimes  gain  thy  immediate  pur- 
pose by  persuasion,  not  because  he  understands  thy 
reasons,  and  is  moved  by  them,  but  because  thou  in  a 
manner  submittest  thyself  to  him,  and  makest  him  the 
judge.    Thus  his  pride  is  flattered  ;  thy  talk  employs 


132 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


his  vacant  time  and  dispels  his  caprices.  But  this  is 
all  ;  —  while  for  the  future  thou  renderest  his  guidance 
more  difficult  for  thee,  and  confirmest  thyself  in  a  per- 
nicious prejudice." 

###### 

"  Cheerfulness  and  good  courage,  are  to  me  the  high- 
est proof  that  thou  lovest  me  as  I  should  be  loved. 
Dejection  and  sorrow  are  distrust  in  me,  and  make  me 
unhappy,  because  they  make  thee  unhappy.  It  is  no 
proof  of  love,  that  thou  shouldst  feel  deeply  the  injus- 
tice done  to  me  :  to  me  it  is  a  light  matter,  and  so  must 
it  be  to  thee,  for  thou  and  T  are  one. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  dying  ;  indulge  in  no  such 
thoughts  ;  for  they  weaken  thee,  and  thus  might  be- 
come true.  No  !  we  will  yet  live  with  each  other  many 
joyful  and  happy  days  ;  and  our  child  shall  close  our 
eyes  when  he  is  a  mature  and  perfect  man  :  till  then  he 
needs  us. 

'  ■  In  the  progress  of  my  present  work,  I  have  taken 
a  deeper  glance  into  religion  than  ever  I  did  before. 
In  me  the  emotions  of  the  heart  proceed  only  from 
perfect  intellectual  clearness  ; — it  cannot  be  but  that 
the  clearness  I  have  now  attained  on  this  subject  shall 
also  take  possession  of  my  heart. 

u  Believe  me,  that  to  this  disposition  is  to  be  as- 
cribed, in  a  great  measure,  my  steadfast  cheerfulness, 
and  the  mildness  with  which  I  look  upon  the  injustice 
of  my  opponents.  I  do  not  believe  that,  without  this 
dispute  and  its  evil  consequences,  I  should  ever  have 
come  to  this  clear  insight  and  this  disposition  of  heart 
which  I  now  enjoy  ;  and  so  the  violence  we  have  ex- 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


133 


perienced  has  had  a  result  which  neither  you  nor  I  can 
regret. 

11  Comfort  the  poor  boy,  and  dry  thy  tears  as  he  bids 
thee.  Think  that  it  is  his  father's  advice,  who  indeed 
would  say  the  same  thing.  And  do  with  our  dear  Her- 
mann as  I  wrote  thee  before.  The  child  is  our  riches, 
and  we  must  use  him  well.:' 

If  the  spectacle  of  the  scholar  contending  against 
the  hindrances  of  fortune  and  the  imperfections  of  his 
own  nature  —  struggling  with  the  common  passions  of 
mankind  and  the  weakness  of  his  own  will  —  soaring 
aloft  amid  the  highest  speculations  of  genius,  and  drag- 
ged down  again  to  earth  by  its  coarsest  attractions  ;  — 
if  this  is  one  of  the  most  painful  spectacles  which  the 
theatre  of  life  presents,  surely  one  of  the  noblest,  is 
when  we  see  such  a  man  pursuing  some  lofty  theme, 
with  a  constancy  which  difficulties  cannot  shake,  nor 
the  whirlwind  of  passion  destroy.  Nor  is  the  scene 
less  interesting  and  instructive,  if  the  inherent  nobility 
of  its  central  figure  has  drawn  around  him  a  few  souls 
of  kindred  nobleness,  whose  presence  sheds  a  genial 
brilliance  over  a  path  otherwise  solitary,  although  never 
dark  or  doubtful  :  —  Such  was  now  Fichte's  position. 
The  first  years  of  his  residence  at  Berlin  were  among 
the  most  peaceful  in  his  life  of  vicissitude  and  storm. 
Uninterrupted  by  public  duties,  he  now  applied  his 
whole  powers  to  the  perfecting  of  his  philosophy,  sur- 
rounded by  a  small  circle  of  friends  worthy  of  his 
attachment  and  esteem.  Friedrich  and  Wilhelm  Schle- 
gel,  Tieck,  Woltmann,  Reichhardt  and  Friedrich  Rich- 
11 


134 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


ter,  were  among  his  chosen  associates  ;  Bernhardi,  with 
his  clear  and  acute,  yet  discursive  thought,  his  social 
graces  and  warm  affections,  was  his  almost  daily  com- 
panion. Hufeland,  the  king's  physician,  whom  he  had 
known  at  Jena,  now  became  bound  to  him  by  the 
closest  ties,  and  rendered  him  many  kind  offices,  over 
which  the  delicacy  of  friendship  has  thrown  a  veil. 
Amid  the  amenities  of  such  society,  and  withdrawn 
from  the  anxieties  and  disturbances  of  public  life,  Fichte 
now  devoted  himself  to  the  development  and  completion 
of  his  philosophic  theory.  It  was  during  this  period 
of  repose  that  the  great  characteristic  idea  of  his  sys- 
tem first  revealed  itself  to  his  mind  in  perfect  fulness, 
and  impressed  upon  his  subsequent  writings  that  deeply 
religious  character  to  which  we  have  formerly  adverted. 
The  passage  from  the  circle  of  subjective  reflection  to 
objective  and  absolute  being,  which  Kant  had  left  un- 
attempted,  had  hitherto,  as  we  have  already  seen,  been 
rested  by  Fichte  on  the  ground  of  moral  feeling  only. 
Our  faith  in  the  Divine  was  the  inevitable  result  of  our 
faith  in  Duty  ;  it  was  the  imperative  demand  of  our 
moral  nature.  But  his  thoughts  were  now  directed 
more  steadily  to  the  religious  aspect  of  his  theory,  and 
he  sought  to  add  an  intellectual  validity  to  this  moral 
conviction,  by  a  deeper  analysis  of  the  fact  of  con- 
sciousness. What  is  the  essential  character  of  our  know- 
ledge? It  is  this: — that  it  announces  itself  as  a  represen- 
tation of  something  else,  the  picture  of  something  supe- 
rior to  and  independent  of  itself.  It  is  thus  composed  of 
a  double  idea: — a  higher  being  which  it  imperfectly  rep- 
resents ;  and  itself,  —  inferior  to,  derived  from,  and 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


135 


dependent  upon  the  first.  Thus  it  must  renounce  the 
thought  of  itself  as  the  only  being  whose  existence  it 
reveals,  and  regard  itself  rather  as  the  image  or  reflec- 
tion of  a  truly  Highest  and  Ultimate  Being  revealed  in 
human  thought,  and  indeed  its  essential  foundation. 
And  this  idea  cannot  be  got  rid  of  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  a  merely  subjective  conception  ;  for  we  have  here 
reached  the  primitive  essence  of  thought  itself,  —  and 
to  deny  this  would  be  to  deny  the  very  nature  and  con- 
ditions of  our  knowledge,  and  to  maintain  an  obvious 
contradiction; — this,  namely,  —  that  there  can  be  a 
conception  without  an  object  conceived,  a  manifestation 
without  substance,  and  that  the  ultimate  foundation  of 
all  things  is  nothing.  By  this  reconciliation,  and  in- 
deed essential  union  of  the  subjective  with  the  objective, 
reason  has  finally  bridged  over  the  chasm  by  which 
analysis  had  formerly  separated  it  from  the  simple  faith 
of  common  humanity.  Consciousness  becomes  the 
manifestation  —  the  self-revelation  of  the  absolute  — 
and  this  only.  The  varied  forms  into  which  it  is  broken 
up,  are  only  more  or  less  perfect  modes  of  this  one 
Existence,  and  the  idea  of  the  world  as  an  infinite  as- 
semblage of  concrete  beings,  or  of  cooperative  forces, 
conscious  or  unconscious,  is  another  phase  of  the  same 
infinite  and  absolute  Being.  But  in  no  case,  and  from 
no  point  of  view,  is  consciousness  a  purely  subjective 
and  empty  train  of  fancies  ;  it  contains  nothing  which 
does  not  rest  upon  and  image  forth  a  higher  reality  ; 
and  thus  Idealism  assumes  the  form  of  a  sublime  and 
perfected  Realism. 

This  change  in  the  spirit  of  his  philosophy  has  been 


136 


MEMOIR   OF  F1CHTE. 


ascribed  to  the  influence  of  a  distinguished  contempo- 
rary, who  now  (1S45)  fills  the  chair  at  Berlin,  of  which 
Fichte  was  the  first  occupant.  It  seems  to  us  that  it 
wras  the  natural  and  inevitable  result  of  his  own  princi- 
ples and  mode  of  thought.  In  the  development  of  the 
system,  whether  in  the  mind  of  its  author  or  in  that  of 
any  learner,  the  starting  point  is  necessarily  the  individu- 
al consciousness  —  the  finite  Ego.  But  when  the 
logical  processes  of  the  understanding  have  performed 
their  office,  and  led  us  from  this,  the  nearest  of  our 
spiritual  experiences,  to  that  higher  point  in  which  finite 
individuality  disappears  in  the  great  thought  of  an  all- 
embracing  consciousness — an  Infinite  E^o, — it  be- 
comes unnecessary  to  reiterate  the  initial  steps  of  the 
investigation  —  to  imitate  the  gropings  of  the  school-boy 
rather  than  the  comprehensive  vision  of  the  man.  From 
this  higher  point  of  view  Fichte  now  looked  out  on 
human  life  and  action,  and  saw  in  it  no  longer  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  individual,  but  the  harmonious  although 
diversified  manifestation  of  the  one  Idea  of  universal 
being,  —  the  self-revelation  of  the  Absolute  —  the  in- 
finitely varied  forms  under  which  God  becomes  "  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh." 

The  first  traces  of  this  change  in  his  speculative 
position  are  observable  in  his  u  Bestimmung  des  Mens- 
chen,"  published  in  1799,  in  which,  as  we  have  already 
said,  may  be  found  the  most  complete  exposition  of  his 
philosophy  which  can  be  communicated  in  a  popular 
form.  In  1801,  appeared  his  "  Antwortschreiben  an 
Reinhold,"  and  his  "  Sonnenklarer  Bericht  an  das 
grossere  Publicum  uber  das  eigentliche  Wesen  der 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


137 


neuesten  Philosophie."  These  he  intended  to  follow 
up  in  10S2  with  a  more  strictly  scientific  and  complete 
account  of  the  "  Wissenchaftslehre,"  designed  for  the 
philosophical  reader  only.  But  he  was  induced  to 
postpone  this  purpose,  partly  on  account  of  the  recent 
modification  of  his  own  philosophical  point  of  view,  and 
partly  because  of  the  existing  state  of  the  literary  world, 
in  which  Schelling's  Natur-Philosophie  was  now  making 
rapid  progress.  Before  communicating  to  the  world 
the  work  which  should  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as 
the  finished  institute  of  his  theory,  it  appeared  to  him 
necessary,  first  of  all  to  prepare  the  public  mind  for  its 
reception  by  a  series  of  introductory  applications  of  his 
system  to  subjects  of  general  interest.  But  this  purpose 
was  likewise  laid  aside  for  a  time, — principally,  it 
would  seem,  from  uncertainty  as  to  the  mode  in  which 
he  should  communicate  with  the  world,  and  perhaps 
also  from  a  certain  degree  of  dissatisfaction  with  the 
reception  which  his  works  had  hitherto  received. 
These  feelings  occasioned  a  silence  of  four  years  on 
his  part,  and  are  characteristically  expressed  in  the  pre- 
face to  the  following  Lectures. 

In  the  meantime,  although  Fichte  retired  for  a  season 
from  the  prominent  position  which  he  had  hitherto 
occupied  in  the  public  eye,  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  remain  inactive.  Shut  out  from  communication  with 
the  "  reading  public,"  he  sought  to  gather  around  him 
fit  hearers  to  whom  he  might  impart  the  high  message 
with  which  he  was  charged.  This  was,  indeed  his 
favorite  mode  of  communication  :  in  the  lecture-room 
his  fiery  eloquence  found  a  freer  scope  than  the  form  of 
11* 


13S 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


a  literary  work  would  permit.  A  circle  of  pupils  soon 
gathered  around  him  at  Berlin.  His  private  lectures 
were  attended  by  the  most  distinguished  scholars  and 
statesmen  :  W.  Schlegel  and  Kotzebue,  the  Minister 
Schrotter,  the  High  Chancellor  Bey  me,  and  the  Minis- 
ter von  Altenstein,  might  be  found  among  his  auditory. 

In  1804  an  opportunity  presented  itself  of  resuming 
his  favorite  vocation  of  an  academic  teacher.  This 
was  an  invitation  from  Russia  to  assume  the  chair  of 
Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Charkow.  The  exist- 
ing state  of  literary  culture  in  that  country,  however, 
did  not  seem  to  offer  any  promising  field  for  his  exer- 
tions ;  and  another  proposal,  which  appeared  to  open 
the  way  to  a  more  useful  application  of  his  powers  oc- 
curring at  the  same  time,  he  declined  the  invitation  from 
Charkow.  The  second  invitation  was  likewise  a  foreign 
one, — from  Bavaria,  namely,  to  the  Philosophic  chair  at 
Landshut.  It  was  accompanied  by  pecuniary  proposals 
of  a  most  advantageous  nature.  But  experience  had 
taught  Fichte  to  set  a  much  higher  value  upon  the  internal 
conditions  of  such  an  office,  than  upon  its  outward  ad- 
vantages. In  desiring  an  academic  chair,  he  sought 
only  an  opportunity  of  carrying  out  his  plan  of  a  strictly 
philosophical  education,  with  a  view  to  the  future  re- 
ception of  the  Wissenchaftslehre  in  its  most  perfect 
form.  To  this  purpose  he  had  devoted  his  life,  and  no 
pecuniary  consideration  could  induce  him  to  lay  it  aside. 
But  its  thorough  fulfilment  demanded  absolute  freedom 
of  teaching  and  writing  as  its  primary  condition,  and 
this  was  therefore  the  first  point  to  which  Fichte  looked 
in  any  appointment  which  might  be  offered  to  him.  He 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


139 


frankly  laid  bis  views  on  this  subject  before  the  Bavarian 
Government.  cc  This  plan,"  he  says,  u  might  perhaps 
be  carried  forward  without  the  support  of  any  govern- 
ment, although  this  has  its  difficulties.  But  if  any 
enlightened  government  should  resolve  to  support  it,  it 
would,  in  my  opinion,  acquire  thereby  a  deathless  fame, 
and  become  the  benefactor  of  humanity."  Whether  the 
Bavarian  Government  was  dissatisfied  with  the  conditions 
required  does  not  appear,  —  but  the  negotiations  on  this 
subject  were  shortly  afterwards  broken  off. 

At  last,  however,  an  opportunity  occurred  of  carry- 
ing out  his  views  in  Prussia  itself.  Through  the  influ- 
ence of  his  friends  Beyrne  and  Altenstein  with  the 
Minister  Hardenberg,  he  was  appointed  Professor  of 
Philosophy  at  the  University  of  Erlangen,  with  the 
liberty  of  returning  to  Berlin  during  the  winter  to  con 
tinue  his  philosophic  lectures  there.  In  May,  1805,  he 
entered  upon  his  new  duties  with  a  brilliant  success, 
which  seemed  to  promise  a  repetition  of  the  epoch  of 
Jena.  Besides  the  course  of  lectures  to  his  own  stu- 
dents, in  which  he  took  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the 
conditions  and  method  of  scientific  knowledge  in  gener- 
al, he  delivered  a  series  of  private  lectures  to  his  fel 
low  professors  and  others,  in  which  he  laid  down  his 
views  in  a  more  abstract  form.  In  addition  to  these 
labors,  he  delivered  to  the  whole  students  of  the  Uni- 
versity his  celebrated  lectures  on  the  "  Nature  of  the 
Scholar."  These  remarkable  discourses  must  have 
had  a  powerful  effect  on  the  young  and  ardent  minds  to 
which  they  were  addressed.  Never,  perhaps,  were  the 
moral  dignity  and  sacredness  of  the  literary  calling  set 
forth  with  more  impressive  earnestness. 


140 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


Encouraged  by  the  brilliant  success  which  had  attend- 
ed his  prelections  at  Erlangen,  Fichte  now  resolved  to 
give  forth  to  the  world  the  results  of  his  later  studies, 
and  especially  to  embody,  in  some  practical  and  gener- 
ally intelligible  form,  his  great  conception  of  the  eternal 
revelation  of  God  in  consciousness.  Accordingly,  on 
his  return  to  Berlin  in  the  winter  of  1805-6,  he  pub- 
lished the  course  of  lectures  we  have  just  alluded  to, 
on  the  "  Nature  of  the  Scholar,"  followed  soon  after 
by  another  course  which  had  been  delivered  at  Berlin 
during  the  previous  year,  under  the  title  of  "  Grund- 
zuge  des  gegenwartigen  Zeitalters."  Of  the  first  of 
these  a  translation  is  now  offered  to  the  English  reader. 
The  Scholar  is  here  represented  as  he  who,  possessed 
and  actuated  by  the  Divine  Idea,  labors  to  obtain  for 
that  Idea  an  outward  manifestation  in  the  world,  either 
by  communicating  it  to  his  fellow-men  (as  Teacher)  ; 
or  by  directly  embodying  it  in  visible  forms  (as  Ruler, 
Lawgiver,  Statesman,  &c.)  The  second  course  is  an 
application  of  the  same  great  principle  to  General  His- 
tory, abounding  in  profound  and  comprehensive  views 
of  the  history,  prospects,  and  destiny  of  man.  This 
series  of  popular  works  was  completed  by  the  publica- 
tion in  the  spring  of  1806,  of  the  "  Anweisung  zum 
Seligen  Leben,  oder  die  Religionslehre  ;  "  the  most 
important  of  all  his  later  writings,  which  contains  the 
final  results  of  his  philosophy  in  its  most  exalted  appli- 
cation. 

Fichte's  long-cherished  hopes  of  founding  an  academi- 
cal institution  in  accordance  with  his  philosophical  views, 
seemed  now  about  to  be  realized.    During  the  winter 


MEMOIR   OF   FICHTE.  141 

vacation,  Hardenberg  communicated  with  him  on  the 
subject  of  a  new  organization  of  the  University  at  Er- 
langen.  Fichte  drew  up  a  plan  for  this  purpose,  which 
was  submitted  to  the  Minister  in  1806.  But  fortune 
again  interposed  ;  the  outbreak  of  the  war  with  France 
prevented  his  resuming  the  duties  which  had  been  so 
well  begun. 

The  campaign  of  1805  had  subjected  the  greater 
part  of  Germany  to  the  power  of  Napoleon.  Prussia, 
almost  alone,  maintained  her  independence,  surrounded 
on  every  side  by  the  armies  or  vassals  of  France.  Her 
struggle  with  the  giant-power  of  the  continent  was  of 
short  duration.  On  the  9th  October,  1806,  war  was 
declared  —  on  the  14th  the  double  battle  of  Auerstadt 
and  Jena  was  fought  —  and  on  the  21st  Napoleon  en- 
tered Berlin.  In  rapid  succession,  all  the  fortresses  of 
Prussia  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  invader. 

Fichte  eagerly  desired  permission  to  accompany  the 
army  which  his  country  sent  forth  against  her  invad- 
ers. The  hopes  of  Germany  hung  upon  its  progress  ; 
its  success  would  bring  freedom  and  peace,  —  its  fail- 
ure, military  despotism,  with  all  its  attendant  horrors. 
Opposed  to  the  well  trained  troops  of  France,  elated 
with  victory  and  eager  for  new  conquests,  the  defenders 
of  Germany  needed  all  the  aid  which  high  principle 
and  ardent  patriotism  could  bring  to  their  cause.  To 
maintain  such  a  spirit  in  the  army  by  such  addresses  as 
afterwards  appeared  under  the  celebrated  title  of  "  Re- 
den  an  die  Deutschen,"  Fichte  conceived  to  be  his 
appropriate  part  in  the  general  resistance  to  the  enemy; 
and  for  that  purpose  he  desired  to  be  near  the  troops. 


142 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


"  If  the  orator,"  he  says,  u  must  content  himself  with 
speech  —  if  he  cannot  fight  in  your  ranks  to  prove  the 
truth  of  his  principles  by  his  actions,  by  his  contempt 
of  clanger  and  of  death,  by  his  presence  in  the  most 
perilous  places  of  the  combat,  —  this  is  only  the  fault 
of  his  age,  which  has  separated  the  calling  of  the 
scholar  from  that  of  the  warrior.  But  he  feels  that  if 
he  had  been  taught  to  carry  arms,  he  would  have  been 
behind  none  in  courage  ;  he  laments  that  his  age  has 
denied  him  the  privilege  accorded  to  iEschylus  and 
Cervantes,  to  make  good  his  words  by  manlike  deeds. 
He  would  restore  that  time  if  he  could  ;  and  in  the 
present  circumstances,  which  he  looks  upon  as  bringing 
with  them  a  new  phase  of  his  existence,  he  would 
proceed  rather  to  deeds  than  to  words.  But  since  he 
may  only  speak,  he  would  speak  fire  and  sword.  Nor 
would  he  do  this  securely  and  away  from  danger.  In 
his  discourses  he  would  give  utterance  to  truths  belong- 
ing to  this  subject  with  all  the  clearness  with  which  he 
himself  sees  them,  with  all  the  earnestness  of  which  he 
is  capable,  —  utter  them  avowedly  and  with  his  own 
name, — truths  which  should  cause  him  to  be  held 
worthy  of  death  before  the  tribunal  of  the  enemy.  And 
on  that  account  he  would  not  faint-heartedly  conceal 
himself,  but  speak  boldly  before  your  face,  that  he 
might  either  live  free  in  his  fatherland,  or  perish  in  its 
overthrow." 

The  rapid  progress  of  the  war  prevented  compliance 
with  his  wish,  but  the  spirit  which  gave  it  birth  was  well 
appreciated  by  Frederick-William.  u  Your  idea,  dear 
Fichte,"  says  the  reply  to  his  proposal,  "  does  you 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


143 


honor.  The  King  thanks  you  for  your  offer  ;  —  per- 
haps we  may  make  use  of  it  afterwards.  But  the  King 
must  first  speak  to  his  army  by  deeds  :  then  eloquence 
may  increase  the  advantages  of  victory." 

The  defeat  of  Jena,  and  the  rapid  march  of  Napo- 
leon upon  Berlin,  which  remained  defenceless,  render- 
ed it  necessary  for  all  who  had  identified  themselves 
with  the  cause  of  their  country  to  seek  refuge  in  instant 
flight.  Fichte's  resolution  was  soon  taken  :  —  he 
would  share  the.  dangers  of  his  fatherland,  rather 
than  purchase  safety  by  submission.  Fichte's  wife 
remained  in  Berlin  to  take  charge  of  their  own  and 
of  Hufeland's  household,  while  the  two  friends  fled 
beyond  the  Oder. 

Fichte  now  took  up  his  residence  at  Konigsberg  to 
await  the  result  of  the  war.  The  uncertainty  of  his 
future  prospects,  and  the  dangerous  situation  in  which 
he  had  left  his  family,  did  not  prevent  him  from  pursu- 
ing his  vocation  as  a  public  teacher,  even  in  the  face  of 
many  hindrances.  During  the  winter  he  delivered  a 
course  of  philosophical  lectures  in  the  University,  hav- 
ing been  appointed  provisional  professor  of  philosophy 
during  his  residence.  He  steadfastly  resisted  the  ear- 
nest desire  of  his  wife  to  return  to  Berlin  during  its  oc- 
cupancy by  the  French,  conceiving  it  to  be  his  duty  to 
submit  to  every  privation  and  discomfort,  rather  than 
give  an  indirect  sanction  to  the  presence  of  the  enemy 
by  sitting  down  quietly  under  their  rule,  although  he 
could  now  do  so  with  perfect  safety  to  himself.  "  Such 
a  return,"  he  says,  "  would  stand  in  direct  contradic- 
tion to  the  declarations  made  in  my  address  to  the  King, 


144 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


of  which  address  my  present  circumstances  are  the  result. 
And  if  no  other  keep  me  to  my  word,  it  is  just  so  much 
more  my  duty  to  hold  myself  to  it.  It  is  precisely 
when  other  scholars  of  note  in  our  country  are  waver- 
ing, that  he  who  has  been  hitherto  true,  should  stand 
the  firmer  in  his  uprightness." 

The  consequences  of  the  battle  of  Eylau  (8th  Febru- 
ary, 1807)  rendered  his  residence  in  Konigsberg  no 
longer  safe  or  desirable.  He  therefore  removed  to 
Copenhagen,  where  he  arrived  on  the  9th  of  July,  hav- 
ing been  detained  for  some  weeks  at  Memel,  and  on 
sea,  by  contrary  winds.  Soon  after  this,  peace  being 
at  length  concluded,  and  Berlin  evacuated,  he  returned 
to  his  family  towards  the  end  of  August. 

With  the  return  of  peace,  the  Prussian  Government 
determined  to  repair  the  loss  of  political  importance, 
by  fostering  among  its  citizens  the  desire  of  intellec- 
tual distinction  and  the  love  of  free  speculation.  It 
seemed  to  the  eminent  men  who  then  stood  around  the 
throne  of  Frederick-William,  that  the  temple  of  German 
independence  had  now  to  be  rebuilt  from  its  founda- 
tions ;  that  the  old  stock  of  liberty  having  withered  or 
been  swept  away  in  the  tornado  which  had  just  passed 
over  their  heads,  a  new  growth  must  take  its  place, 
springing  from  a  deeper  root  and  quickened  by  a  fresher 
stream.  One  of  the  first  means  which  suggested  it- 
self for  the  attainment  of  this  purpose,  was  the  estab- 
lishment at  Berlin  of  a  new  school  of  higher  education, 
free  from  the  imperfections  of  the  old  Universities, 
from  which,  as  from  the  spiritual  heart  of  the  commu- 
nity, a  current  of  life  and  energy  might  be  poured  forth 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE 


145 


through  all  its  members.  Fichte  was  chosen  by  the 
Minister  as  the  man  before  all  others  fitted  for  this  task, 
and  unlimited  power  was  given  him  to  frame  for  the 
new  University  a  constitution  which  should  ensure  its 
efficiency  and  success.  No  employment  could  have 
been  more  congenial  to  Fichte's  inclinations  ;  —  it  pre- 
sented him  at  last  with  the  long-wished-for  opportunity 
of  developing  a  systematic  plan  of  human  instruction, 
founded  on  the  spiritual  nature  of  man.  He  entered 
with  ardor  upon  the  undertaking,  and  towards  the  end 
of  1807  his  plan  was  completed,  and  laid  before  the 
Minister.  Its  chief  feature  was  its  perfect  unity  of 
purpose  —  the  complete  subordination  of  every  branch 
of  instruction  to  the  one  great  object  of  all  teaching,  — 
not  the  inculcation  of  opinion,  but  the  spiritual  culture 
and  elevation  of  the  individual.  The  institution  was  to 
be  an  organic  whole  ;  —  not  a  mere  assemblage  of 
teachers  holding  various  and  perhaps  opposite  views, 
and  living  only  to  disseminate  these  — but  of  men  with 
a  common  purpose,  steadily  pursuing  one  recognized 
object.  The  office  of  the  Professor  was  not  to  repeat 
verbally  what  already  stood  printed  in  books,  and  might 
be  found  there,  but  to  exercise  a  diligent  supervision 
over  the  studies  of  the  pupil,  and  see  that  he  fully 
acquired,  by  his  own  effort,  and  as  a  personal  and  inde- 
pendent possession,  the  branch  of  knowledge  which 
was  the  object  of  his  studies.  It  was  thus  a  school  for 
the  scientific  use  of  the  understanding,  in  which  posi- 
tive or  historical  knowledge  was  to  be  looked  upon 
only  as  a  vehicle  of  instruction,  not  as  the  ultimate 
end  :  —  spiritual  independence,  intellectual  strength, 
12 


146 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


moral  dignity — these  were  the  great  ends  to  the  attain- 
ment of  which  everything  else  was  but  a  means.  The 
plan  met  with  distinguished  approbation  from  the  Min- 
ister to  whom  it  was  presented  ;  and  if,  when  the  Uni- 
versity was  actually  established  some  time  afterwards, 
the  ordinary  and  more  easily  fulfilled  constitution  of 
such  schools  was  followed,  it  is  to  be  attributed  to  the 
management  of  the  undertaking  having  passed  into 
other  hands,  and  to  the  difficulty  of  finding  teachers 
who  would  cooperate  in  the  accomplishment  of  the 
scheme. 

But  the  misfortunes  of  his  country  induced  Fichte 
to  make  a  yet  more  direct  attempt  to  rouse  the  fallen 
spirit  of  liberty,  and  once  more  to  awaken  in  the  hearts 
of  his  countrymen  the  desire  of  independence,  which 
now  lay  crushed  beneath  a  foreign  yoke.  Prussia  was 
the  last  forlorn  hope  of  German  freedom,  and  it  now 
seemed  to  lie  almost  at  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror. 
Fichte  was  well  aware  of  the  dangers  attending  any 
open  attempt  to  excite  a  spirit  of  opposition  to  the 
French,  but  he  was  not  accustomed  to  weigh  danger 
against  duty  :  with  him  there  was  but  short  pause  be- 
tween conviction  and  action.  u  The  sole  question," 
said  he  to  himself,  u  is  this  : — canst  thou  hope  that  the 
good  to  be  attained  is  greater  than  the  danger  ?  The 
good  is  the  re-awakening  and  elevation  of  the  people  ; 
against  which  my  personal  danger  is  not  to  be  reck- 
oned, but  for  which  it  may  rather  be  most  advanta- 
geously incurred.  My  family  and  my  son  shall  not 
want  the  support  of  the  nation,  —  the  least  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  having  a  martyr  for  their  father.    This  is 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


147 


the  best  choice.  I  could  not  devote  my  life  to  a  better 
end." 

Thus  heroically  resolved  that  he,  at  least,  should 
not  be  wanting  in  his  duty  to  his  fatherland,  he  deliv- 
ered his  celebrated  u  Reden  an  die  Deutschen  "  — 
(Addresses  to  the  German  People)  —  in  the  academical 
buildings  in  Berlin,  during  the  winter  of  1807-8.  His 
voice  was  often  drowned  by  the  trumpets  of  the  French 
troops,  and  well-known  spies  frequently  made  their 
appearance  among  his  auditory  ;  but  he  continued,  un- 
dismayed, to  direct  all  the  fervor  of  his  eloquence 
against  the  despotism  of  Napoleon,  and  the  system 
of  spoiling  and  oppression  under  which  his  country 
groaned.  It  is  somewhat  singular,  that  while  Davoust 
threatened  the  chief  literary  men  of  Berlin  with  ven- 
geance if  they  should  either  speak  or  write  upon  the 
political  state  of  Germany,  Fichte  should  have  remained 
unmolested  — the  only  one  who  did  speak  out,  openly 
and  fearlessly,  against  the  foreign  yoke. 

This  spirit-stirring  course  of  public  activity  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  severe  illness,  which  attacked  him  in  the 
spring  of  1808.  It  was  his  first  illness,  and  it  took  so 
determined  a  hold  of  his  powerful  constitution,  that  he 
never  thoroughly  got  rid  of  its  effects.  Deep-seated 
nervous  disease,  and  particularly  an  affection  of  the 
liver,  reduced  him  to  great  weakness,  and  for  a  long 
time  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  his  life  could  be  saved. 
It  was  only  after  some  months  of  suffering  that  the 
disease  settled  down  upon  a  particular  limb,  and  left 
him  with  a  rheumatic  lameness  of  the  left  arm  and  right 
foot,  which,  with  an  accompanying  inflammation  in  the 


148 


MEMOIR  OF  F1CHTE, 


eyes,  hindered  him  for  a  long  time  from  resuming  his 
habits  of  active  life.  He  was  removed  several  times 
to  the  baths  of  Teplitz  with  beneficial  effect.  The 
tedium  of  convalescence  was  relieved  by  study  of  the 
great  authors  of  Italy,  Spain,  and  Portugal.  At  an 
earlier  period  of  his  life,  he  had  made  himself  acquainted 
with  the  languages  of  these  countries,  and  had  produced 
many  translations  from  their  poets,  particularly  an  entire 
version  of  the  first  canto  of  Dante's  Divina  Commedia, * 
and  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  episodes  in  the  Lusiad 
of  Camoens.  And  now,  in  the  season  of  debility  and 
pain,  the  noble  thoughts  handed  down  by  the  great 
poets  of  the  south  as  an  everlasting  possession  to  the 
world,  became  to  him  the  springs  of  new  strength  and 
dignity.  Nor  did  he  cease  altogether  from  direct  en- 
deavors for  the  good  of  his  fellow-men.  Even  on  the 
sick-bed,  he  found  means  of  affording  relief  and  encour- 
agement to  Ernst  Wagner,  a  true  and  warm-hearted 
friend  of  his  country  and  of  all  good  men,  but  whose 
spirit  was  crushed  almost  to  hopelessness  by  the  pres- 
sure of  disease  and  penury. 

Considerable  doubts  had  arisen  as  to  the  propriety 
of  placing  the  new  University  in  a  large  city  like 
Berlin.  It  was  urged  that  the  metropolis  presented 
too  many  temptations  to  idleness  and  dissipation  to 
render  it  an  eligible  situation  for  a  seminary  devoted  to 
the  education  of  young  men.  This  was  the  view  enter- 
tained by  the  Minister  Stein,  but  warmly  combated  by 
Wolff,  Fichte,  and  others.    Stein  was  at  length  won 


*  Printed  in  the  "  Vesta"  for  1807. 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


149 


over,  and  the  University  was  opened  in  1810.  The 
King  gave  one  of  the  finest  palaces  of  Berlin  for  the 
purpose,  and  all  the  appliances  of  mental  culture  were 
provided  on  the  most  liberal  scale.  Learned  men  of 
the  greatest  eminence  in  their  respective  departments 
were  invited  from  all  quarters — Wolff,  Fichte,  Muller, 
Humboldt,  De  Wette,  Schleiermacher,  Neander,  Klap- 
roth,  and  Savigny  —  higher  names  than  these  cannot 
easily  be  found  in  their  peculiar  walks  of  literature  and 
science.  By  the  suffrages  of  his  fellow-teachers,  Fichte 
was  unanimously  elected  Rector. 

Thus  placed  at  the  head  of  an  institution  from  which 
so  much  was  expected,  Fichte  labored  unceasingly  to 
establish  a  high  tone  of  moral  feeling  in  the  new  Uni- 
versity, convinced  that  thereby  he  should  best  promote 
the  dignity  as  well  as  the  welfare  of  his  country.  His 
dearest  wish  was  to  see  Germany  free — free  alike  from 
foreign  oppression,  and  from  internal  reproach.  He 
longed  to  see  the  stern  sublimity  of  old  Greek  citizenship 
reappear  among  a  people  whom  the  conquerors  of  Greece 
had  failed  to  subdue.  And  therefore  it  was  before  all 
things  necessary  that  they  who  were  to  go  forth  as  the 
apostles  of  truth  and  virtue,  who  were  to  be  the  future 
representatives  among  the  people  of  all  that  is  dignified 
and  sacred,  should  themselves  be  deeply  impressed 
with  the  high  nature  of  their  calling,  and  keep  unsul- 
lied the  honor  which  must  guide  and  guard  them  in 
the  discharge  of  its  duties.  He  therefore  applied  him- 
self to  the  reformation  of  such  features  in  the  student- 
life  as  seemed  irreconcilable  with  its  nobleness, — to 
the  suppression  of  the  Landsmannschaften,  and  of  the 
12* 


150 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


practice  of  duelling.  Courts  of  honor,  composed  of 
the  students  themselves,  decided  upon  all  such  quarrels 
as  had  usually  led  to  personal  encounters.  During  his 
two  years'  rectorship,  Fichte  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
character  which  the  University  still  maintains,  of  being 
the  best  regulated,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  efficient 
schools  in  Germany. 

The  year  1812  was  an  important  one  for  Europe, 
and  particularly  for  Germany.  The  gigantic  power 
of  Napoleon  had  now  reached  its  culminating  point. 
Joseph  Bonaparte  reigned  at  Madrid,  and  Murat  at 
Naples  ;  —  Austria  was  subdued,  and  the  fair  daughter 
of  the  House  of  Hapsburg  had  united  her  fate  to  that 
of  the  conqueror  of  her  race  ;  —  Prussia  lay  at  his 
mercy  ;  —  Holland  and  the  Free  towns  were  annexed 
to  the  territory  of  France,  which  now  extended  from 
Sicily  to  Denmark.  One  thing  alone  was  wanting  to 
make  him  sole  master  of  the  continent  of  Europe,  and 
that  was  the  conquest  of  Russia.  His  passion  for 
universal  dominion  led  him  into  the  great  military  error 
of  his  life, — the  attempt  to  conquer  a  country  defended 
by  its  climate  from  his  power,  and  which,  even  if  sub- 
dued, could  never  have  been  retained.  He  rushed  on 
to  the  fate  which  sooner  or  later  awaits  unbridled  ambi- 
tion. The  immense  armies  of  France  were  poured 
through  Germany  upon  the  North,  to  find  a  grave 
r  amid  the  snows  of  Smolensk,  or  in  the  waters  of  the 
Berezina. 

And  now  Prussia  resolved  to  make  a  decisive  effort 
to  throw  off  a  yoke  which  had  always  been  hateful  to 
her.    The  charm  was  now  broken  which  made  men 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


151 


look  on  the  might  of  Napoleon  as  invincible  ;  —  the 
unconquerable  battalions  had  been  routed  ;  fortune  had 
turned  against  her  former  favorite.  The  King  entered 
into  alliance  with  the  Russian  Emperor,  and  in  January 
1813,  having  retired  from  Berlin  to  Breslau,  he  sent 
forth  a  proclamation,  calling  upon  the  youth  of  the 
country  to  arm  themselves  in  defence  of  its  liberty. 
Nobly  was  his  appeal  responded  to.  The  nation  rose 
as  one  man  ;  all  distinctions  were  forgotten  in  the  high 
enthusiasm  of  the  time  ;  prince  *and  peasant,  teacher 
and  scholar,  artisan  and  merchant,  poet  and  philoso- 
pher, swelled  the  ranks  of  the  army  of  liberation. 

Fichte  now  renewed  his  former  application  to  be 
permitted  to  accompany  the  troops,  in  the  capacity  of 
preacher  or  orator,  that  he  might  share  their  dangers, 
and  animate  their  courage.  Difficulties  arising  in  the 
way  of  this  arrangement,  he  resolved  to  remain  at  his 
post  in  Berlin,  and  to  continue  his  lectures  until  he  and 
his  scholars  should  be  called  personally  to  the  defence 
of  their  country.  The  other  professors  united  with 
him  in  a  common  agreement,  that  the  widows  and  chil- 
dren of  such  of  their  number  as  fell  in  the  war  should 
be  provided  for  by  the  cares  of  the  survivors.  It  is 
worthy  of  remark,  that  amid  this  eager  enthusiasm, 
Fichte  resolutely  opposed  the  adoption  of  any  pro- 
ceedings against  the  enemy  which  might  cast  dishonor 
on  the  sacred  cause  of  freedom.  While  a  French 
garrison  still  held  Berlin,  one  of  his  students  revealed 
to  him  a  plan  for  firing  their  magazine  during  the  night. 
Fichte  immediately  disclosed  the  whole  to  the  super- 
intendent of  police,  by  whose  timely  interference  the 
scheme  was  defeated. 


152 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE 


During  the  summer  of  1813,  Fichte  delivered  from 
the  Academical  Chair  those  views  of  the  existing  cir- 
cumstances of  his  country,  and  of  the  war  in  which  it 
was  engaged,  which  he  was  prevented  from  communi- 
cating to  the  army  directly.  These  lectures  were 
afterwards  printed,  under  the  title  of  "  Ueber  den 
Begriff  des  wahren  Kriegs," —  (On  the  idea  of  a  true 
war.)  With  a  clearness  and  energy  of  thought  which 
seemed  to  increase  with  the  difficulties  and  danger  of  his 
country,  he  roused  an  irresistible  opposition  to  proposals 
of  peace  which,  through  the  mediation  of  Austria,  were 
offered  during  the  armistice  in  June  and  July.  The 
demands  of  Napoleon  left  Germany  only  a  nominal 
independence  ;  a  brave  and  earnest  people  sought  for 
true  freedom.  u  A  stout  heart  and  no  peace,"  was 
Fichte's  motto,  and  his  countrymen  agreed  with  him. 
Hostilities  were  re-commenced  in  August,  1813. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  winter  half-year,  Fichte  re- 
sumed his  philosophical  prelections  at  the  University. 
His  subject  was  an  introduction  to  philosophy  upon  an 
entirely  new  plan,  which  should  render  his  system 
much  more  easily  attainable.  He  had  now  accom- 
plished the  great  object  of  his  life, — the  completion,  in 
his  own  mind,  of  that  scheme  of  knowledge  by  which 
his  name  was  to  be  known  to  posterity.  Existing  in 
his  own  thought  as  one  clear  and  comprehensive  whole, 
he  believed  that  he  could  now  communicate  it  to 
others,  in  a  simpler  and  more  intelligible  form  than  it 
had  yet  assumed.  It  was  therefore  his  intention  to 
devote  the  following  summer  to  this  purpose,  and  leave 
behind  him  a  finished  record  of  his  philosophy  in  its 


MEMOIR  OF   FICHTE.  153 

maturity  and  completeness.  But  fate  had  ordered 
otherwise. 

The  vicinity  of  Berlin  to  the  seat  of  the  great  strug- 
gle on  which  the  liberties  of  Germany  were  depending, 
rendered  it  the  most  eligible  place  for  the  reception  of 
the  wounded  and  diseased.  The  hospitals  of  the  city 
were  crowded,  and  the  ordinary  attendants  of  these 
establishments  were  found  insufficient  in  number  to  sup- 
ply the  wants  of  the  patients.  The  authorities  there- 
fore called  upon  the  inhabitants  for  their  assistance,  and 
Fichte's  wife  was  one  of  the  first  who  responded  to  the 
call.  The  noble  and  generous  disposition  which  had 
rendered  her  the  worthy  companion  of  the  philosopher, 
now  led  her  forth,  regardless  of  danger,  to  give  all  her 
powers  to  woman's  holiest  ministry.  Not  only  did  she 
labor  with  unresisting  assiduity  to  assuage  the  bodily 
sufferings  of  the  wounded,  and  to  surround  them  with 
every  comfort  which  their  situation  required,  and  which 
she  had  the  power  to  supply  ;  she  likewise  poured 
words  of  consolation  into  many  a  breaking  heart,  and 
awakened  new  strength  and  faithfulness  in  those  who 
were  c  ready  to  perish.' 

For  five  months  she  pursued  with  uninterrupted  de- 
votion her  attendance  at  the  hospitals,  and,  although 
not  naturally  of  a  strong  constitution,  she  escaped  the 
contagion  which  surrounded  her.  But  on  the  3d  of 
January,  IS  14,  she  was  seized  with  a  nervous  fever, 
which  speedily  rose  to  an  alarming  height,  so  that 
almost  every  hope  of  her  recovery  was  lost.  Fichte's 
affection  never  suffered  him  to  leave  her  side,  except 
during  the  time  of  his  lectures.    It  is  an  astonishing 


154 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


proof  of  his  self-command,  that  after  a  day  of  anxious 
watching  at  the  death-bed,  as  it  seemed,  of  her  he  held 
dearest  on  earth,  he  should  be  able  to  address  his  class 
in  the  evening,  for  two  consecutive  hours,  on  the  most 
profound  and  abstract  subjects  of  human  speculation, — 
uncertain  whether,  on  his  return,  he  might  find  that 
loved  one  still  alive.  At  last,  the  crisis  of  the  fever 
was  past,  and  Fichte  received  again  the  faithful  partner 
of  his  cares,  rescued  from  the  grave. 

But  even  in  this  season  of  joy,  In  the  embrace  of 
gratulation  he  received  the  seeds  of  death.  Scarcely 
was  his  wife  pronounced  out  of  danger,  than  he  himself 
caught  the  infection,  and  was  attacked  by  the  insidious 
disease.  Its  first  symptom  was  nervous  sleeplessness, 
which  resisted  the  effect  of  baths,  and  the  other  usual 
remedies.  Soon,  however,  the  true  nature  of  the  mal- 
ady was  no  longer  doubtful,  and  during  the  rapid  pro- 
gress of  his  illness,  his  lucid  moments  became  shorter 
and  less  frequent.  In  one  of  these  he  was  told  of 
Blucher's  passage  of  the  Rhine,  and  the  final  expulsion 
of  the  French  from  Germany.  That  spirit-stirring  in- 
formation touched  a  chord  that  roused  him  from  his 
unconsciousness,  and  he  awoke  to  a  bright  and  glorious 
vision  of  a  better  future  for  his  fatherland.  The  tri- 
umphant excitement  mingled  itself  with  his  fevered 
fancies  :  —  he  imagined  himself  in  the  midst  of  the 
victorious  struggle,  striking  for  the  liberties  of  Ger- 
many ; — and  then  again  it  was  against  his  own  disease 
that  he  fought,  and  power  of  will  and  firm  resolu- 
tion were  the  arms  by  which  he  was  to  conquer  it. 
Shortly  before  his  death,  when  his  son  approached  him 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


155 


with  medicine,  he  said,  with  his  usual  look  of  deep  af- 
fection—  u  Let  it  alone  ;  I  need  no  more  medicine  : 
I  feel  that  I  am  well."  On  the  eleventh  day  of  his 
illness,  on  the  night  of  the  27th  January,  1814,  he 
died.  The  last  hours  of  his  life  were  passed  in  deep 
and  unbroken  sleep. 

Fichte  died  in  his  fifty-second  year,  with  his  bodily 
and  mental  faculties  unimpaired  by  age  ;  scarcely  a 
grey  hair  shaded  the  deep  black  upon  his  bold  and  erect 
head.  In  stature  he  was  low,  but  powerful  and  mus- 
cular. His  step  was  firm,  and  his  whole  appearance 
and  address  bespoke  the  rectitude,  firmness,  and  earn 
estness  of  his  character 

His  widow  survived  him  for  five  years.  By  the 
kindness  of  the  Monarch  she  was  enabled  to  pass  the 
remainder  of  her  life  in  ease  and  competence,  devoting 
herself  to  the  superintendence  of  her  son's  education. 
She  died  on  the  29th  January,  1819,  after  an  illness  of 
seven  days. 

Fichte  died  as  he  had  lived,  — the  priest  of  knowl- 
edge, the  apostle  of  freedom,  the  martyr  of  humanity. 
His  character  stands  written  in  his  life,  a  massive  but 
severely  simple  whole.  It  has  no  parts  ;  —  the  depth 
and  earnestness  on  which  it  rests,  speak  forth  alike  in 
his  thoughts,  words,  and  actions.  No  man  of  his  time — 
few  perhaps  of  any  time  —  exercised  a  more  powerful, 
spirit-stirring  influence  over  the  minds  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen.  The  impulse  which  he  communicated  to 
the  national  thought,  extended  far  beyond  the  sphere  of 
his  personal  influence  ;  —  it  has,  awakened  —  it  will 


156 


MEMOIR  OF  FICHTE. 


still  awaken  —  high  emotion  and  manly  resolution  in 
thousands  who  never  heard  his  voice.  The  ceaseless 
effort  of  his  life  was  to  rouse  men  to  a  sense  of  the 
divinity  of  their  own  nature  —  to  fix  their  thoughts  upon 
a  spiritual  life,  as  the  only  true  and  real  life  —  to  teach 
them  to  look  upon  all  else  as  mere  show  and  unreality, 
and  thus  to  lead  them  to  constant  effort  after  the  highest 
Ideal  of  purity,  virtue,  independence  and  self-denial. 
To  this  ennobling  enterprise  he  consecrated  his  being  ; 
to  it  he  devoted  his  gigantic  powers  of  thought,  his  iron 
will,  his  resistless  eloquence.  But  he  also  taught  it  in 
deeds  more  eloquent  than  words.  In  the  strong  reality 
of  his  life,  —  in  his  intense  love  for  all  things  beautiful 
and  true,  —  in  his  incorruptible  integrity  and  heroic  de- 
votion to  the  right,  we  see  a  living  manifestation  of  his 
principles.  His  life  is  the  true  counterpart  of  his  phi- 
losophy ; —  it  is  that  of  a  strong,  free,  incorruptible 
man.  And  with  all  the  sternness  of  his  morality,  he  is 
full  of  gentle  and  generous  affections,  of  deep,  over- 
flowing sympathies.  No  tone  of  love,  no  soft  breath- 
ing of  tenderness,  fall  unheeded  on  that  high,  royal  soul, 
but  in  its  calm  sublimity  find  a  welcome  and  a  home. 
Even  his  hatred  is  the  offspring  of  a  higher  love.  Truly 
indeed  has  he  been  described  by  one  of  our  own  coun- 
try's brightest  ornaments,  as  a  "  colossal,  adamantine 
spirit,  standing  erect  and  clear,  like  a  Cato  Major 
among  degenerate  men  ;  fit  to  have  been  the  teacher  of 
the  Stoa,  and  to  have  discoursed  of  beauty  and  virtue 
in  the  groves  of  Academe."  But  the  sublimity  of  his 
intellect  casts  no  shade  on  the  soft  current  of  his  affec- 
tions, which  flows,  pure  and  unbroken,  through  the 


MEMOIR   OF  FICHTE. 


157 


whole  course  of  his  life,  to  enrich,  fertilize,  and  adorn 
it.  In  no  other  man  of  modern  times  do  we  find  the 
stern  grandeur  of  ancient  virtue  so  blended  with  the 
kindlier  humanities  of  our  nature,  which  flourish  best 
under  a  gentler  civilization.  We  prize  his  philosophy 
deeply  ;  it  is  to  us  an  invaluable  possession,  for  it  seems 
the  noblest  exposition  to  which  we  have  yet  listened,  of 
human  nature  and  divine  truth  ;  but  with  reverent  thank- 
fulness we  acknowledge  a  still  higher  debt,  for  he  has 
left  behind  him  the  best  gift  which  man  can  bequeath 
to  man  —  a  brave,  heroic  human  life. 


In  the  first  churchyard  from  the  Oranienburg  gate  of 
Berlin,  stands  a  tall  obelisk  with  this  inscription  :  — 

THE  TEACHERS  SHALL  SHINE 
AS  THE  BRIGHTNESS  OF  THE  FIRMAMENT  ; 
AND  THEY  THAT  TURN  MANY  TO  RIGHTEOUSNESS 
AS  THE  STARS  FOR  EVER  AND  EVER. 

It  marks  the  grave  of  Fichte.  The  faithful  partner 
of  his  life  sleeps  at  his  feet. 


13 


